Page 183 of The Girlfriend Clause
“Sveta.” She said it under her breath. “Of course it is.”
“No, Andrea, she’s not—I mean. Look, she’s just someone I used to—”
“It’s okay, Liam, I know you normally date models and influencers, or whatever. I get it. And I know this”—she waved at the space between us—“is just a deal. You needed someone to make you look steady, and I checked the right boxes.”
She was resigned. Didn’t she know that barely an hour went by when I wasn’t thinking about her? Could she not tell that I felt more connected to her than anyone else before her?That one afternoon in her bed hadn’t felt like nearlyenough?
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
My fingers clenched. I knew what I wanted; I could already see it. Her beside me, laughing, teasing, never letting me hide behind charm or money or excuses. Holding me to a higher standard. A future less bleak. Something real.
The words felt dangerous, even as they formed.
“It’s the first thing I’ve ever had that felt like it mattered.”
She stopped walking. “Liam. Please… don’t…” When she turned to me, her eyes were full of tears. “I’ve seen how you live… the people, the places… all of it. I don’t belong in your world. I don’t know the rules, and I say the wrong things. I can’t even check into a hotel without making a mess of it.” She swallowed. “So please don’t tell me you want this unless you’ve really thought about it. Because your life is nothing like mine, and I just… don’t fit.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
Was that how she’d been feeling all this time? Despite how smart, and pretty, and talented she was, she still believed she wasn’t enough? I’d thought she was holding back, but all this time, she’d been bracing.
“You fit …”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“With me.”
She didn’t answer.
Then a drop hit my hand, followed by another. I glanced up at the sky, but dark clouds had swallowed what was left of the moon. Shit, we were at least a fifteen-minute walk from the château, miles away from everything down here by the forest.
Rain touched the back of my neck. We had less than a minute before it would be falling hard, like last night, and we’d be drenched.
“Andrea,” I said. “Come with me.”
I grabbed her hand and tried to remember the way, our feet slipping on the wet grass as we cut across the garden instead of staying on the path. I could just about make out the dark shapes of the hamlet cottages ahead, their small roofs and shuttered windows hardly visible in the dark.
“Here,” I said. We reached the small stone porch and stopped, both of us breathing hard. I pushed the door open to get us out of the rain.
“Liam, what is this place?”
“Old disused cottages,” I said. “People haven’t lived in them for years.”
Inside, the room was smaller than I expected, with a stone floor, bare walls, and a low beam running across the ceiling. Someone had left a wooden table against one side and a narrow bench beside the cold fireplace. The air held that deep chillstone buildings kept even in summer. It smelled faintly of damp wood and old plaster, but it was dry and solid.
I tried the light switch, but nothing happened.
“We’ll just shelter here for a minute until it stops,” I said. “Is that okay?”
Rain hammered harder on the roof, as if to prove me wrong. The music from the château had faded completely. Poor Nick and Juliette, their wedding party was over.
“Not sure we have much choice,” she said, shaking water from her hair.
The room was cool, and she was soaked through, the rain showing no sign of easing. I went to the hearth and checked it. Dry wood was already stacked there—they must have used these places more recently than I’d thought. I found matches on the narrow mantel and crouched to light the kindling, waiting as the flame struggled, then finally caught and spread an orange glow across the room.
When I looked over at her, she was shivering, wet silk clinging to her skin.
