"Probably."
"The water felt so good. Even better than it did today. And the space was ours. All ours." She turns to me. "Only it was dark. And there were string lights everywhere. Like something in a movie."
"I remember."
Her eyes meet mine. "You laughed. And there was something about it. This warmth. This depth. I realized it was the first time you'd really laughed since Bash died."
"I laugh all the time."
She nods. "But not like this, with this… abandon. I realized I knew you. I knew when you had your mask on. And when you let your guard down. Seeing you with it down…" Her eyes flit to my lips. "I'd never felt that special."
"Being the only person who sees through my bullshit?"
She doesn't take the bait. She stays close. Sincere. "Yeah." She brushes my wet hair from my forehead. "After that, I saw that guy more and more. Glimpses of him. Moments. Then minutes. Hours even. I feel the same thing every time. This need to get to the bottom of the mystery. Who is Liam Pierce? I want to know." Her fingers skim my chin. "Do you want to tell me?"
Chapter Seventeen
Liam
Do you want to tell me?
It's a fair question.
But it's so much more than that.
It's an invitation to offer everything I have.
A promise. A kiss. A touch. A fuck.
She wants me to kiss her.
I want to kiss her.
I want to sit here on the concrete, roll her bikini bottoms to her ankles, lick her until she's groaning my name.
But that can't happen.
I need to stop before I ruin everything.
"There's nothing to know." I push off the pool floor. Move toward the other edge. "Liam Pierce exists in the shallow end."
"You literally just went into the deep end."
"I'm bad at metaphors."
She notices the change in posture. The refusal. The denial.
Her eyes turn down.
Her lips curl into a frown.
She still wants to kiss me.
I still want to kiss her.
But we can't. And she knows.
Or maybe I'm imagining shit. Maybe I can't handle the idea of her not wanting to fuck me, so I have this complicated explanation.
My ego isn't easily bruised. Not by rejection. Whatever the situation, there's some other opportunity.
Another woman at the bar.
Another investor searching for a company.
Another programmer in need of a job.
But that isn't the case here.
There's no other Briar. Only one.
She dives under the water. Surfaces without a care. Or pretending.
I can't fucking tell anymore.
She speaks in her normal tone. As if we aren't half-naked and ready to fuck each other. As if we're not part of this elaborate ruse. "Preston was talking about Kintsugi. Have you heard of it?"
"Sounds Japanese."
"Yeah. The Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold." She follows me into the deep end. "He made it sound beautiful. To break and put yourself together. To become better because of what you've been through. He was talking about you. After Bash. And how I must have helped. He didn't know we're not really…"
"Yeah."
"But that sounded beautiful, too. Helping someone you love repair themselves. Or maybe finding the strength you need to repair yourself in their love. I don't know. I think that's love. Trusting someone to see your cracks. Trusting them with your broken pieces."
It's beautiful on her lips.
"I never had that. I never trusted John with my broken pieces. I never wanted him to see the cracks." She pushes her hair from her eyes. "I did love him. And he loved me. But we… we were wading, not diving into the ocean."
"And that's why you ended things?"
"Because I didn't want to follow him deeper. Or maybe I didn't want to lead him deeper."
"Because of him?"
"Because of both of us. I didn't trust him to see me. I wasn't ready to show him. I thought it was about freedom. Maybe that was part of it. But I was scared too."
"Takes guts to admit that."
"Maybe." Her eyes meet mine. "It would be gutsier to dive in headfirst. But it's not easy for everyone."
"You think I'm different?"
"I don't know. You do things full force."
"I don't love anyone."
"Never? Even when you were a kid?"
"You've asked before."
"You've been full of shit before."
And I answered with my default no, but I was telling her the truth. "I've had feelings, yeah, but never love. Now, Bash… he fell headfirst. A ton of times. The woman he was seeing when he died… I don't know what happened to her, if she ever got the news. I guess she must have. Fuck, maybe she was at the funeral, I don't know."
"What was it like?"
"What was my brother's funeral like?"
"It's a legitimate question."
"Why are you asking it?"
She moves closer. "Because I want to know."
Are these really my only two options? Sex and death.
They're everywhere lately.
I'm not sure which will destroy me faster, fucking Briar or focusing on Preston's imminent demise.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," she says. "I'm sure it's hard. I don't really know. But I… the way Preston talked about it, about how I could be there for you after your brother… it really felt like love. Like what I would want, if I had someone."