Chapter 22
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting shadows that danced across the walls like they were auditioning for some indie art film.
I was curled against Liam’s chest on the oversized couch, cocooned in warmth and the kind of peace that felt almost illegal after the shitshow that was today.
His fingers traced lazy patterns through my hair, and I could feel his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my cheek.
For the first time in weeks, my brain wasn’t doing its usual impression of a hamster on cocaine, spinning through worst-case scenarios and workplace anxieties.
Just this. Just the rise and fall of his breathing, the city sounds far below, and the sense of being exactly where I belonged instead of constantly apologizing for taking up space.
“I could stay here forever,” I murmured against his chest.
“I wish you could,” he replied quietly, voice rumbling through his chest like distant thunder.
“But Leo will lose his shit if I don’t come home,” I added with a sigh.
Reality check. That’s right. Because despite how safe this moment felt, I couldn’t hide in expensive apartments and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.
“I should go,” I said reluctantly, but made zero effort to extract myself from his arms.
“Five more minutes,” Liam said, tightening his hold slightly. “The city’s not going anywhere.”
But eventually, real life intruded like an unwelcome party crasher.
I forced myself to sit up, immediately missing his warmth, and began the tragic process of gathering my things.
Liam walked me toward the door, hand resting on the small of my back—a gesture that was both protective and reluctant to let me go.
“Jasmine,” he said as I reached for my coat.
I turned to find him holding a black garment bag that looked expensive even in dim light. The fabric was pristine, silver zipper gleaming, and there was something almost ceremonial about the way he held it.
“What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Is this your way of bribing me with designer wear?”
Liam didn’t smile, but I caught the tiny twitch at his mouth corner.
“It’s not a bribe,” he said, voice low and steady. “It’s armor. For tomorrow.”
The word ‘armor’ hung in the air between us, and suddenly his tone wasn’t teasing. There was something quieter in his expression—sincere, almost protective.
And I got it. This wasn’t about fashion or impressing anyone. This was about him wanting to shield me, to give me something that would make me feel strong when facing whatever fresh hell tomorrow would bring.
“I already have something to wear,” I protested gently, though his gesture was melting my cynical little heart.
“I know you do,” he replied, stepping closer and pressing the garment bag into my hands. “But I picked this specifically for you. It’s not about what you need—it’s about what you deserve to feel when you walk into that room tomorrow.”
The weight of the bag felt significant, like he was handing me more than just clothing. “Liam…”
“Please,” he said simply. “Let me do this for you. Let me give you something that makes you feel as powerful as you actually are.”
I looked down at the garment bag, then backed up at his earnest expression.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “You’re going to be incredible tomorrow. Don’t let anyone, especially Adelyn, make you think otherwise.”
I expected my apartment to be quiet when I got home—Leo probably asleep or gaming with headphones on. Instead, I was greeted by Nora’s voice bellowing from my bedroom.
“Finally! I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped by your mysterious after-hours meetings!”
I opened the door to find my apartment looking like a fashion magazine had exploded.
Clothes draped over every available surface, makeup products covering my dresser like a cosmetics store had a nervous breakdown, shoes lined up in military precision across my floor.
In the center of this cheerful chaos sat Nora, cross-legged on my bed with wine in one hand and what looked like a fashion magazine in the other.
“What is all this?” I asked, setting Liam’s garment bag carefully on a chair.
“This,” Nora announced dramatically, gesturing with her wine glass, “is your fairy godmother moment. I’m here to make sure you absolutely slay at tomorrow’s press conference.”
“How did you even get in here?”
“Leo let me in before he left for his study group. Sweet kid, by the way. Very protective. Made me promise I wasn’t here to give you ‘bad advice about boys.’” She grinned wickedly. “Little does he know, I’m here to give you excellent advice about the boys.”
“Nora—”
“Ah-ah!” She held up a finger. “No protests. I brought wine, cupcakes from that ridiculously expensive bakery you love, and my considerable expertise in making women look like the goddesses they are.”
Despite my exhaustion, I found myself smiling. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” She patted the bed beside her. “Now sit. We have important work to do.”
I settled next to her, accepting the wine glass she pressed into my hands. “What kind of work?”
“The kind where we pick an outfit that says ‘I’m a brilliant professional who could also probably bench press you,’ and then we practice your ‘I’m definitely not sleeping with my bosses’ face.”
“Nora!”
“What? I’m just saying, subtlety has never been your strong suit. Remember when you tried to act casual about that crush on your college TA? You turned purple every time he looked at you.”
“That was different,” I protested, but I was laughing now. “And I was nineteen.”
“Exactly my point. You need coaching.” She jumped up and began rifling through the clothes she’d brought. “Now, what’s in the mystery bag? Please tell me one of them bought you something fabulous.”
I glanced at Liam’s garment bag, still feeling the weight of his gesture. “Maybe.”
“Ooh, mysterious. I like it. But first, let’s see what else we’re working with.”
For the next two hours, Nora transformed my apartment into a staging area worthy of a magazine shoot. She had me try on outfit combinations, critiqued my posture, and coached me on projecting confidence even when I felt like a disaster wrapped in professional clothing.
“The key,” she said, adjusting a blazer collar, “is to remember that you belong in that room. You’ve earned your place through talent and hard work, not because of who you’re screwing.”
“But what if people think—”
“Let them think whatever they want. Their opinions don’t pay your bills or define your worth.” She stepped back, studying me critically. “Besides, jealousy makes people stupid. Use that to your advantage.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Not simple. Strategic.” She handed me another cupcake. “There’s a difference.”
As the night wore on, our conversation meandered from work strategies to childhood memories to Nora’s latest dating disasters. The laughter filling my apartment was exactly what I’d needed—light, genuine, uncomplicated by workplace politics or relationship drama.
“Thank you,” I said as we finally began cleaning up the chaos. “For this, for being here, for…” I gestured helplessly at the organized piles of clothes and makeup.
“For being your friend,” Nora finished firmly. “That’s what friends do. We show up when it matters.”
“Even when it’s messy and complicated?”
“Especially then.” She pulled me into a fierce hug. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow, you’re going to remind everyone why you’re the best damn assistant that label has ever had.”
After Nora left, I hung Liam’s garment bag carefully in my closet, still curious about his choice but somehow reluctant to look. The mystery felt important, like opening it too soon would break whatever spell he’d woven.
As I got ready for bed, I could hear the city settling into its late-night rhythm outside my windows. For the first time in weeks, my apartment felt peaceful rather than like a hiding place.
The burdens were still there, but somehow Nora’s presence had made them feel lighter, more manageable.
