Page 64 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

"Good boy." She smiles, reaching for the whiskey bottle and refilling our glasses with a steady hand. "Now let’s enjoy our dinner. I’ll stop badgering you."

Later that night, as I step out into the crisp November air, the city lights of Fort Point blink back at me, indifferent to the turmoil within. But as I walk to where my car is parked, a firm resolve settles over me.

I have to tell Shiloh how I feel. I can't let her slip away without knowing the truth—that she's become the axis on which my world spins, even if she doesn't realize it yet.

I slide behind the wheel, the leather of the steering wheel cold against my palms. My heart thumps steadily, a drumbeat pushing me forward. I just have to figure out how to confess these feelings—a declaration that could either build or burn bridges between us.

"Alright, Liam," I murmur to myself, turning the key in the ignition. "It's now or never."

The engine roars to life, a beast waking from slumber, and I shift into drive. Determination steels my nerves. I will tell Shiloh. I have to. Because Ma is right—love, even with the risk of pain, is worth chasing.

And I intend to run after it with everything I've got.

Chapter twenty-six

Shiloh

It’s the day beforemy twenty-third birthday, and I’m finally taking charge of my own life.

I exhale, the sound a soft note of contentment in my studio apartment, which feels more like a sanctuary than just four walls. The Boston skyline spreads out beyond my window, a jagged horizon of concrete and glass softened by the fading light. I can glimpse the harbor, its waters a mix of cobalt and slate as evening closes in.

Turning slightly in my chair, I run my gaze over the walls adorned with artwork that speaks to me—a swirl of colors here, an abstract shape there—and photographs that are pieces of my heart frozen in time. My fingers itch to touch each frame, to feel the connection to the memories they hold, but I anchor myself to the present.

Especially now, when everything is on the edge of change.

To my right, a collage demands my attention, its haphazard collection of images a map of laughter and dreams shared.There's Nadia and me, arms slung around each other, grins wide enough to split our faces.

That photo, the centerpiece, was taken the day we vowed to conquer Dublin together—the last day of junior year at Boston College. But even as I smile at the thought, doubt coils tight in my gut.

Dublin means graduate school. It means the future we sketched out on napkins in diners and in whispers during late-night dorm chats. Yet, here I am, with a cursor blinking impatiently on my laptop screen, the word ‘Submit’ taunting me from beneath the application form. I trace the trackpad with a hesitant finger, my thoughts snagging on Liam.

Liam, whose laugh lines tell stories of joy hard-won.

Liam, who challenges and infuriates me in equal measure.

Liam, with whom everything is complicated and nothing is assured.

I don't want to leave him. The admission alone feels like a betrayal, but it's the truth, raw and unvarnished.

"Come on, Shiloh," I mutter to myself. "Just hit the damn button."

But the hesitation remains, a weight on my chest that no amount of deep breathing can dislodge. Because clicking submit isn't just about moving forward—it's about potentially leaving something behind.

An image of Liam flashes in my mind—the way his eyes crinkle when he's genuinely amused or the rare moments he looks at me like maybe I'm more than just a fling. My heart aches with 'what ifs' and 'if onlys'.

"Damn it," I whisper, and steel myself.

With a breath that feels like it's carving a notch in my future, I press down. The click sounds louder than it should, echoing off the walls of my new apartment.

"Okay," I say, quieter now, the word an anchor in the silence. "I did it."

I slump back in my chair, the afterglow of the moment already fading. My gaze slides to my phone, lying innocently on the desk. I pick it up, thumb hovering over the screen, heart hitching with the hope of seeing his name.

But there's nothing from Liam—no text, no missed call. Nothing.

"Great," I mutter, a hollow feeling spreading through me.

We were good together, or so I thought. But ever since he glimpsed that application, things have soured. He's pulled back, and I can't help but wonder if he's written me off and decided I'm not worth the hassle.

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