Page 46 of Persuading Liam

“Look, I don’t have all the answers,” she continues gently. “All I know is that talking, therapy, workingthough itinstead of against it has helped me, has helped Max. Talk to him if you’re not sure. He can show you how to start building a life that isn’t just about the moments that hurt you.”

I swallow around the knot in my throat, unsure if I’m strong enough to get through it. I thought I was. I thought every step I ever ran, and every hour I spent pushing my body to the limits made me stronger, but I’m weaker than I’ve ever been.

When I don’t answer, Gus pats my hand. “If you ever want to talk, if you ever want to talk to Max, if you want contact info for a therapist, I’m your gal. Okay?”

I fight to bring my eyes to hers, and when I do, I see not just Gus, but my soon-to-be sister-in-law. My family. An overwhelming rush of emotions swells my chest. “Thank you, Gus. Really.”

She smiles, but her eyes search my face as if she’s not sure the message got through. “You’re welcome, promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I promise.” And I’m not lying. I’m not sure I’ll be able to think about anything else for a while. Especially with the gut feeling that though Marley said she was fine—I know my actions last night changed something, damaged whatever was growing between us.

With my promise secured, Gus excuses herself from my office and I slump in my chair, feeling like my brain has been ricocheting around my skull for the last twelve hours.

I’m tired. So goddamn tired. And not the type of tired that comes from running twice this morning like a fucking maniac. But the kind of tired that exists at the cellular level, that infuses every move and every thought. I feel like I could slip off my chair, under my desk, and into a deep days-long sleep.

Only I have to finish the Aspen project, and somehow, some way, I have to figure out if I can fix things with Marley.

That is, if I’m even worthy of her.

33

MARLEY

The apartment feels emptier than usual when I get home. Not in tangible way, but as if something is missing that was there before. A warmth, a buzz of excitement. Liam said he had to work late, so it’s not his absence that makes it feel hollow.

“Hey kitty,” I greet Stephen as he winds his way through my feet in a figure-eight pattern with a howl that tells me he’ll waste away if I don’t feed him.

I stop to scratch the top of his head, but he dodges it as if to say I haven’t earned his affection yet. “I know,” I tell him, setting my bag down and shrugging out of my coat. “I had to work a little later today but look! You survived!”

He does one more figure eight before dashing towards his food bowl and I complete the task with only three more impatient head-buts to my ankle.

“There you go.” I set the bowl down and watch him unhinge his jaw like the Hungry Hungry Hippo.

It’s just then that I realize I haven’t eaten all day. I haven’t felt like it. Still don’t. But, just in case, I peek in the fridge. There is plenty there. With a roommate like Liam, you can guaranteethat there will be food from a freshly stocked, perfectly balanced food pyramid at all times.

And yet, no appetite.

I close the door with a sigh and head to my bedroom. It’s been a few nights since I’ve slept in my own bed, and now, I feel like I’m in limbo.

Liam told me he was fine. That we were fine. That everything was FINE.

But it doesn’t feel fine and now with the first issue of the Post due out in less than forty-eight hours, I’m not sure thatI’mfine.

Yes, Fin and I got a ton of work done today. Yes, all the prep we’ve been doing helped. Yes, I loved seeing her head bowed over her laptop writing furiously. But despite the overall fact that we’re in a fairly good place, it feels tenuous at best.

“I should work,” I say aloud to no one and set my laptop on my desk. I came home with a whole list of things to work on—adjust the weather widget, check the connections on the Sports updates, test the portal for the opinion page—but I can’t make sense of a single thing on my screen.

So, I do the next best thing—close it and lay on my bed in a sideways fetal position.

Eventually, after snarfing the entirety of his food dish, Stephen joins me, and we fall asleep curled around each other.

I don’t wake up until I hear a soft knock on my door. Startled to realize I fell asleep in my work clothes, with all the lights on and a metric ton of work that needs to be done, Stephen and I both sit up.

“Marley,” I hear Liam’s tentative voice and my stomach twists with worry. Is he going to tell me I’m not what he wants? Is he going to tell me he’s leaving? Anguish nearly closes my throat completely.

“Marley,” he says again. “Could we talk?”

I bite back a rush of bile. Every time I’ve been asked that question my whole life—it’s been bad. Boyfriends breaking up, sure, but even worse was the coming announcement from my father that we were moving again.

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