Act I: Liam Blames Himself

“Liam, don’t you dare.” She folded her arms across her chest and mentally willed him not to say what he was about to say.

Misunderstanding, he stopped five feet away, a frown creasing his brow. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Just took a while to wake up. Probably because I wasn’t getting enough sleep . . .” Her joke fell flat. He didn’t even smile. “Are you okay? Layla said you had a minor concussion. Why didn’t you go home?”

“You were here.” He moved to the foot of her bed, a pained expression on his face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“Well, you can go home now,” she said gently. “As you can see, the body armor did its job. I didn’t wind up as one of Hamish’s gory stories.”

He drew in his lips, and she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t taken you out . . .”

Daisy held up her hand. “Don’t even start. This wasn’t your fault. The police officer told me what happened. Layla told me what happened. All my aunties and uncles told me what happened. You saved me, Liam. You were a hero. Most people wouldn’t have thought to pull us off the bike, or to roll so you cushioned my body. You saved me. The end.”

Still no smile. Instead, he shook his head. “Most people wouldn’t have thought to put you on the bike in the first place.” She could feel his tension rising, see his anxiety ripple under his skin.

“It was my choice, and except for the fact that your pillion seat is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on in my life, and that’s even with all my extra padding, I loved being out there with you. It was fun and exciting and it took my breath away. I’m not saying I’ll be jumping on your motorcycle the minute I get out of here, but—”

“The bike was totaled in the crash, and I’m not sure if I’ll buy another one.” He hesitated, and the part of her mind that had detached from her emotions sat back and called the next scene of this train wreck of a breakup as her pulse pounded in her ears.

Act II: Liam Justifies His Self-Delusion

“I can’t do this.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, the creak of a door in a silent room. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

Daisy frowned. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t do this’? I haven’t told anyone that we’re not really engaged. The dating plan isn’t done. We still have to meet my family for the big interrogation, and then the marriage at city hall . . .”

“I should never have asked you to get involved,” he continued. “I was so focused on my family and saving the distillery, I never really thought about how we would be misleading your family, too. And now that I’ve met them, and seen your dad again, I just can’t—” His voice caught, broke. “He was like a father to me. And your aunties . . . I can see that they could be . . . difficult to handle, but they love you. They just want to find someone who will make you happy, someone worthy of you. And it’s clear, that’s not me.”

Dread slid icy fingers along her spine. She wanted to run, to hide, to sink back into the oblivion of unconsciousness where her nightmares couldn’t come true. Unbidden, her mind took her back to the day her mother left. They’d put the last touches on redecorating her bedroom, coordinating the bedspread and pillows with the bright pink walls. A kiss. A hug. And then her mother packed up the car and drove away. At seven years old, Daisy hadn’t understood it was forever. She’d sat at the window for hours waiting for her mother to come back until Sanjay had come home and read the note on the kitchen table. Even then she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. For two weeks, she returned every day to the window, waiting for her mother to come home while Sanjay shouted and raged, and her dad sat on the couch and cried. Little had she known that in ten years, she’d be sitting at that window again, waiting for someone else to come back to her. Had she not learned her lesson? Why had she put herself in this situation again?

“So after everything, you’re just walking away?” She stared at him, incredulous. “What about Organicare?” It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come from her lips.

What about me?

Liam frowned. “I’ve done everything I said I would do. Once Brad finishes the rebrand, I’ll make sure it gets to the Evolution partners for consideration with my full recommendation. I’ve been called back to New York to discuss partnership, but because of the conflict of interest I won’t have a vote—”

She stared at him, aghast. “You’re moving back to New York?” She hadn’t seen that one coming.

Act III: Liam Pulls a Devastating Hat Trick

“I hadn’t decided if I was going to accept the offer, but I made my decision today.” His gaze dropped to the floor and he shrugged. “It was my dream. I wanted to show the world that a guy with nothing and no college degree could make it to the top.”

Her face fell. It was happening too quickly, spinning out of control. Caught in a maelstrom of emotion, she could barely breathe. “And what?” she demanded. “That’s it? You’re just walking away? What about the distillery?”

What about us?

Liam shrugged. “My dream of saving the family legacy was just that . . . a dream. I never really thought it through. But you’ve shown me I need to be practical. I need a plan for my life moving forward. I can’t run a distillery from New York. What you have—people who love you, who care about you, who made sure you were never alone—that’s a legacy. What am I really trying to save?”

Us. But there was no us. It was a game. A charade. A made-up relationship. It wasn’t real, and it was never meant to be. He had been honest about that from the start. She just hadn’t expected it would end so soon.