Chloe stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning against a man's shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around her back, one hand at her waist, the other gently patting the back of her head. Her whole body shook violently, shoulders heaving, crying so hard she could barely stand. And he steadied her, chin resting on top of her head, his posture so gentle I wanted to twist his head off his neck.
Liam Brooks.
That bartender from the club. The broke kid I'd followed, investigated, and almost thrown in the Hudson River. The man who worked up the courage to confess at Chloe's apartment door and got rejected.
Now he stood at my wedding entrance, holding my woman.
Chapter Eighteen
Chloe
I didn't remember how I got out of that church. All I knew was I had to run from this place that ripped my heart in two.
My hand stayed pressed against my stomach as I left, like if I let go, this little thing inside me would shatter right along with everything else.
The damp air hit my face. I stood at the church entrance and gulped it down—cold as knives sliding down my throat. That pain finally cleared my head a little.
I'd been living in a dream. A beautiful dream that gave me everything I wanted, but kept me terrified it would vanish any second. And now midnight had struck. Cinderella had to wake up.
I couldn't go back to that villa. Not now. I couldn't pretend I didn't know what I knew.
At least I still had most of my money from the strip club. I didn't know where I'd go, but anywhere had to be better than here.
I let out a bitter laugh and started down the church steps.
"Chloe."
I turned toward the voice. Liam stood there.
He waited at the bottom of the steps in a faded brown jacket, hairmessed up from the rain that had just stopped. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a closed umbrella. He stood among the stretch limos and eager reporters, looking completely out of place.
"Liam."
The moment our eyes met, his expression went serious. I didn't know what I looked like, but judging by his reaction, probably like death.
Then he ran toward me.
"What happened? Christ, Chloe, you look like hell."
I opened my mouth, but the tears came first. I'd hit my breaking point. One simple question, and I completely fell apart.
I threw myself into Liam's arms, buried my face in his shoulder, and the tears just wouldn't stop. My whole body shook. My shoulders jerked. I couldn't even breathe.
Liam held me tight, one hand against my back, the other cradling my head. His shirt got soaked fast, but he didn't complain.
I didn't know how long I cried. People kept going in and out of the church, throwing us curious looks, whispering. I didn't hear any of it. My world had shrunk down to the space inside Liam's jacket.
Why? Why was this world so goddamn unfair to me?
God took away my family. Why did my only love have to be a complete lie, too?
I cried until my eyes ran dry, until the violent sobs finally stopped.
"Sorry. I got your shirt wet." I finally lifted my head from his shoulder, my voice raw and unrecognizable.
"It's an honor to serve my princess." Liam tried to sound light.
He pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed them over. I took them and wiped my face. When I looked down, the tissues were black. My eyeliner had completely melted. No wonder Liam's face had changed.
