Page 30 of Liam
Ryan clears his throat. “Okay, let’s focus. Tell us about Sofia and this bet.”
“She’s a pediatric nurse. We met at that speed dating event. Smart, funny, great smile. And the bet? Simple. I just need to go out with her four times until the Halloween party. That’s just a little over a month away. Piece of cake.”
Alex’s eyes widen. “A month? You? Mr. I-Have-an-Early-Meeting’ after the second date?”
“I was busy,” I protest, my smile never faltering. “I’m a CEO, remember? It’s not my fault if my schedule doesn’t always align with my dates.”
Diego snorts. “Right, because your schedule conveniently blows up the minute a woman wants more than sparkling conversation and a lobster dinner.”
I wave a hand. “Coincidence. Besides, this time it’s different. I have a bet to win.”
Ryan leans forward, all serious now. “Liam, buddy, we’ve known you for years. You’re great at first dates. Charming, attentive, hilarious.”
I smile, nodding. “Thank you, I?—”
“But the moment things get real,” Ryan continues, ignoring my grin, “you’re halfway to Timbuktu, mysteriously unreachable because of business commitments.”
“It’s called responsibility,” I reply with a casual flip of my hand.
Alex sighs. “It’s calledrunning away, but sure, let’s go with your corporate buzzwords.”
“The point is,” Ryan interrupts, “that for someone smartenough to get multiple degrees just 'for fun,’ you're surprisingly bad at maintaining relationships that last longer than a software update cycle.”
I shake my head, my smile unwavering. “You guys are exaggerating. Name one time I’ve ‘run away’ from a relationship without a reason.”
The three of them exchange glances before simultaneously saying, “Sarah.”
“Emily,” adds Diego.
“Olivia,” chimes in Ryan.
“That investor’s daughter,” Alex remembers.
I hold up my hands. “Okay, okay. Those were all unique situations. And they weren’t my type.”
Diego groans. “Dude, no woman is ‘your type’ for longer than a weekend. Face it, you bail when things get even a little serious.”
I scoff, though there’s a tiny knot forming in my chest. “That’s absurd. I just haven’t met the right person yet. Besides, this is different. I have a plan. I’ll show Sofia an amazing time, keep things light and fun for a month, win the bet, and everyone’s happy.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “And what if you actually like her? What if you want to keep seeing her after the bet?”
A sudden tightness grips my chest as if the air in the room thinned out. But I shrug it off, slipping into a grin.Like her?Well, that’s the goal, right? Liking someone is good. That’s what people do. If I like her, it means I’ve found someone worth the time. It’ll mean she’s different from the others. Maybe this time will be different.
I straighten my shoulders, trying to lean into the thought. If only she doesn’t get boring after three dates like the rest.
A confident laugh escapes me. “Come on, liking her would just be a bonus. That’s what we’re aiming for, right? I’ve got it handled.”
The collective groan from my friends is almost comforting in its familiarity.
Over the next hour, my living room turns into some kind of warped relationship boot camp. My friends have transformed into self-proclaimed love gurus, throwing out advice as if I’m gearing up for a space mission to Mars, not four measly dates.
Alex, naturally, takes command by grabbing a sheet of paper and sketching out what can only be described as “The Liam Survival Plan.”
“First,” Alex begins, drawing a stick-figure version of me on the page, “we avoid your usual death traps. No discussing quarterly earnings. No synergy talk. And for the love of God, man, don’t say, ‘Let’s touch base later.’” He pauses, looking at me gravely. “Women don’ttouch base, Liam—they want toconnect.”
He air quotes “connect” like he’s unveiling the secrets of the universe.
Diego swipes the marker from him with a flair that would make a Broadway actor jealous. “And if she talks about feelings,” he adds, sketching a cartoon speech bubble above stick-figure Sofia, “you nod. Don’t run an ROI analysis on her emotions, and for the love of everything holy, no cost-benefit analysis of the relationship. Got it?”
