The offer landed in my chest, warm and painful. These women loved me. Ruth and Chloe both. They would help if I asked. They probably would have helped from the beginning if I'd told them.
But I hadn't asked them, had I? I'd been too proud, or too deep in survival mode to even think of it. Instead, someone else had stepped in.
"Someone's already helping," I said. "He bought out Lucia's share of the project. Put up his own equity to keep us afloat."
Chloe's eyebrows went up. "Wait. Someone bought into this disaster? Voluntarily?"
"He didn't really give me a choice," I said. "He just... did it. And now he's risking his business, his house, everything he's built… If this fails, he loses it all." I looked at her. "I can't ask anyone else to stand in that fire, Chloe. I can't. Ben's already there because of me."
"Who?"
I looked down at my hands. "Ben Walsh."
The name sat between us for a beat.
"Ben," Chloe repeated slowly. "Ryan's best friend?"
"Yes."
She stared at me. Then she picked up her wine glass and took a long drink.
"Okay," she said finally. "So let me get this straight. Ryan's best friend—the guy who was his best man, the guy who helped you move into this house—just voluntarily bought intoa half-million-dollar construction disaster to save you from foreclosure."
"Yes."
"And you're out there every day. With him. Building this house."
"Yes."
Chloe took a long gulp of wine, then set down her glass. "Jesus, Liv. Now I really wish you'd given me tequila instead."
I wanted to laugh, but the sound came out as something between a sob and a breath.
"Does Mom know?" Chloe asked.
I shook my head. "No. I couldn't. I… I didn't know how to tell her."
Chloe was quiet for a long moment, staring at her wine. "I don't know if we should. She's grieving her son. Do we really need to tell her he was..." She trailed off, then tried again. "That he did all this?"
I'd thought about it. Late at night, when I couldn't sleep, I'd imagined that conversation a hundred different ways. Ruth deserved the truth, I knew that. But what would it do except destroy how she remembered him? Ryan was gone. The truth wouldn't bring him back or change what he'd done.
"I don't know," I said finally.
"We don't have to decide tonight." Chloe looked at me. "But she's worried about you. That's why she called me."
"I know."
Chloe's eyes dropped to my hands, still folded in my lap. I watched her gaze land on my left ring finger—the pale band of skin where the gold used to be.
Something soft and sad crossed her face.
She didn't say anything. Didn't ask when, or why, or how I could. She just reached over and squeezed my hand once, quick and firm.
"I have to fly back soon," she said after a moment. "But before I go, I want to see this place. The house."
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to." She let go of my hand and picked up her wine again. "And Liv? You have to start answering my texts. I'm serious. Even if it's just an emoji. I need to know you're alive."
