Page 222 of The Lies We Play

“I wanted to,” he says.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t wait nine days.”

“I know that too.”

His jaw shifts.

Liv’s voice softens. “Any chance you can take the next nine days off and come to me?”

I hold my breath.

This is not something Liv offers lightly. Paris is one thing. Greenwich is another. Her parents could surprise her. Her life could split open in a hallway before she has a plan, and Liv likes plans the way some people like religion.

Halston hears it too.

He looks at the screen for a long moment.

“Maybe,” he says. “Can I sleep on it?”

Liv nods immediately. “Of course. I’ll be there soon if you can’t.”

He exhales through his nose, and I know him well enough to know that is almost a breakdown.

“We’re going to sleep,” I say, “but call if you need us.”

Liv looks at me, then at him. “Take care of him, okay?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Good.” She tries to smile, and this time it almost works. “Love you both. Miss you more than yesterday, but I’ll see you soon.”

Halston’s hand finds mine under the blanket.

“Love you,” I say.

“Love you,” Halston says, rougher than usual.

Liv kisses two fingers and touches them to the camera. “Good night, my beautiful, emotionally complicated men.”

I laugh softly.

Halston almost smiles.

“Good night, baby,” I tell her.

“Good night, Liv,” Halston says.

She looks at us for one more second, like she is memorizing the room she can't stand inside yet.

Then the call ends.

The screen goes dark.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

The room feels bigger without her voice and emptier because of it.