Page 89 of One Billion Reasons

Breathe into it. Take it easy, Becker. Lane brought me back to this, and she knew it was critical that I surf again. It was there in her voice and her eyes and her kiss that day. I love her. The truth is a wave that threatens to swallow me whole. Everything in me is rewritten, and yet, it’s all falling into place. I love Lane. I’ve always loved Lane. Those times when I thought she was mine, that was love. All those times I protected her, fought for her, rescued her. Can she love me back after last night? Or did I extinguish any possibility of a relationship? Am I willing to be all-in? If I do, is it worth the risk?

“Liam.”

He turns, his hair slicked back from his face. “What’s up?”

“If I told you I was in love with your sister, what would you do?” Hopefully the answer isn’t punch you in the face.

He grins. “Yeah? For real?”

I give a short nod. “I’m done running.”

“Well then, I’d say welcome to the family.”

And damn, if that doesn’t feel good.

“Do you think she could love me again, after everything that happened?”

He grins. “Oh, no, I’m not telling you that. You have to talk to her.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

He strokes lazily, shifting so he can watch the swell of the next wave. “What makes you think she even told me?”

I roll my eyes. “She tells you everything. And I’m sure you’re speculating even if you don’t want to let on.”

“Assuming you didn’t totally fuck it up, and she’s willing to forgive you, you’d need a really big apology to win her back.”

Something heavy and uncomfortable lodges behind my ribs. Regret, I think. Or self-loathing.

“How bad was she?” I can’t bear to look at him.

“Bad. I think you broke her heart.”

“That’s what I was trying to avoid.”

Liam has a bemused look on his face when he glances back at me. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I think I’m starting to see that,” I mutter. His words swirl while we’re out on the water. You’d need a really big apology to win her back.

When we’re back in the truck, I shoot a text to George with instructions for my return. Mallory and Lane are moving in to the apartment today, and George is in charge of everything, as well in charge of the private plane’s schedule, my driver, and catching me up when I get back to the office.

I press my head back into the seat. If I’m going to win her, it needs to be perfect. If Lane thought I was ruthless before, well, she hasn’t seen anything yet.

39

Lane

Miles’s apartment building is better than I expected. It’s a lovely old building, completely refurbished and renovated, with soaring ceilings and those old Art Deco elevators. Except for his personal elevator, which is black metal, polished to such a shine that you could do your makeup in the doors. Maybe they let him design the elevator himself? Or maybe he had it specially installed? Ridiculous.

I guess I’ll never run into him in the elevator. He’s on the thirtieth floor, and we’re on the twenty-ninth. One floor, but a world of difference. I take the regular elevator up and admire the hallway as I make my way to 29A. There are only two doors on the whole floor, which means his just-for-fun apartment that he doesn’t live in must be several thousand square feet.

Mallory is already waiting in the doorway, her mismatched socks and oversized T-shirt making my heart squeeze at the familiarity and comfort of it all. She gives me a big hug, and I breathe her in—coconut body wash and her favorite hair products and men’s cologne?

I pull back. “Wait, was Damian here?”

Her lips twitch. She wants to be embarrassed, but she’s too giddy.

“He just left.”

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