The Romance Plan - Lila Monroe Page 0,27

books and the reading room with its long tables and banker’s lamps shaded with deep green glass. No matter how long I’ve lived in New York, and how many times I’ve visited this library, it never stops feeling magical to me. But tonight, there’s no time for browsing, and eventually, I find Liam. He’s out on the grand stone terrace that looks out over the park, the lights and noises of the city muffled down below. He’s taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaning on the stone balustrade, a distant look in his eyes as he takes in the view, like he’s deep in thought.

I clear my throat, not wanting to startle him. “Hi,” I say.

Liam whirls to face me. For a moment he looks irritated, then surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check on you. See if you’re OK.”

“You keep asking me that,” he says shortly. “I’m fine.”

He’s not, clearly, but it’s pretty obvious he’s not about to open up to me about it. All at once I feel young and foolish—for reaching out to him when he’s clearly not interested, for being here at all. Part of me figured I could be some kind of support for him, but I should have known, he doesn’t need anything from me.

He’s made that perfectly clear.

“OK,” I reply quietly. “Well, I think I’ll call it a night then. I’ll see you at the office.”

Liam lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says, before I can leave. “I just… I don’t know what to say to these people. He’s a total stranger to me.”

Liam’s voice is so quiet that at first I think I’ve misheard him, or possibly imagined it altogether. “Harry?” I ask.

Liam nods, leaning back against the railing. “This person that everyone is describing. This boss that everyone loved, this father who’d dress up in costumes and never missed a dance recital… I didn’t know him.” His shoulders slump. “And now… I never will.”

“That must be hard,” I tell him honestly. It’s hard to reconcile even for me, that the great man I knew and loved was also kind of a shitty dad to one of his kids. I can’t imagine how it feels for Liam himself.

“I didn’t have much of a relationship with my dad either,” I confess, moving across the terrace to stand beside him. “It was always just my mom and me.”

Liam glances at me sidelong. “And your romance-loving granny,” he reminds me.

“Exactly.” I smile. “And I would never say it doesn’t hurt—and nobody has ever made me come to a fancy party and listen to everyone talk about how wonderful he is. But I try to remind myself that him not being in my life? That was his loss. And it was Harry’s loss, too, not being there for you.”

Liam smiles at that, just faintly. “Maybe,” is all he says.

“It was,” I insist. “You’re not an entirely terrible person, you know.”

Now he smiles for real. “Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime!”

Neither one of us says anything for a moment. I hear the honk of taxis down below, the drums of a street musician, the faint sounds of the party drifting out from the library ballroom. The last dregs of summer sunlight have faded, Liam’s face cast half in shadow, but for some reason, I’m not ready for this night to be over just yet.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I hear myself ask.

“What, now?” Liam raises his eyebrows.

“Why not?” I ask, feeling suddenly bold and brassy as one of Verity’s heroines. “Do you really think anyone’s going to notice if we Irish goodbye this situation?” I lift my chin. “Personally, I think you’ve stuck it out long enough.”

Liam tilts his head to the side, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face as he considers it. For the first time since I met him, he looks almost… mischievous.

“Sure,” he says, picking up his jacket and motioning for me to go ahead of him. “Let’s bail.”

10

Eliza

It’s not like there’s exactly a shortage of things to do on a summer evening in New York City, and I mentally run through my options as Liam and I sneak back through marble halls of the library and out into the balmy night. I consider walk along the High Line or drinks at a speakeasy in the Village, but in the end, I take him to my secret favorite place to blow off steam: an old-fashioned bowling alley so far uptown it’s basically in Canada.

“Really?” Liam asks,