Page 64 of High Hopes

The whole strange exchange has been rattling around in my head ever since.

By the time I get to Liam’s off-campus apartment, though, my mood has lifted again. None of that matters right now—not when there’s so much to celebrate. Not when I’m about to see him.

I knock, and the door swings open almost immediately. Chase is standing there, grinning wide. “If it isn’t the artist herself,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. “Liam’s favorite potter.”

Before I can respond, the man of the hour appears, barreling toward me like an overexcited golden retriever. His grin is so wide and unrestrained it makes my heart flip. He wraps me in a hug, lifting me clean off the ground and spinning me in a circle.

“You did it!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with pride.

I laugh, holding on tightly. “I don’t even know if I won yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, setting me down but keeping his arms around me. “You’re amazing, and we’re celebrating. Champagne’s already popped.”

Chase saunters over with three glasses in hand, handing one to me. “To Birdie and her masterpieces,” he declares, raising his glass. “Something something, let them eat cake.”

“And to you two, the conference champs,” I add, intertwining my wrist with Liam’s as we drink.

Chase clinks his glass against ours, then takes a long sip. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m heading out to do some celebrating of my own.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and I laugh. From what little I know about Chase, he’s nothing if not predictable when it comes to women.

“Have fun,” Liam calls after him as Chase grabs his coat and heads out the door, leaving us alone.

The apartment goes quiet, save for the soft hum of music playing from Liam’s speaker. It’s unexpectedly tidy—dishes put away, surfaces wiped clean, like he put extra effort into getting it ready for tonight. I set my glass down on the counter and turn to him, my smile softening.

“So, you’re really proud of me, huh?”

His grin doesn’t falter as he steps closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Ridiculously proud.”

My heart feels so full I can’t hold back anymore. I lean up and press my lips to his in a long kiss. It’s sweet and unhurried, filled with the kind of happiness I haven’t felt in a long time.

Liam responds immediately, his hand slipping to the back of my neck to deepen it. His lips are warm, gentle but insistent, as if he’s trying to pour everything he feels into this moment.

But when I pull back, his smile falters. Just for a moment—just enough to make my stomach twist.

“What?” I ask softly, suddenly unsure. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head quickly, his grin snapping back into place, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he says, his voice a little too casual. “You’re perfect.”

Perfect. The word lands softly, but something about it doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s the way his voice dipped, like he didn’t quite believe it. Or maybe it’s just my own overthinking getting the better of me.

“You know what I really like about you?” I ask, forcing my tone to stay light.

He checks his nonexistent watch. “Don’t think we have enough time to run through the list by the end of the night.”

I roll my eyes. “One thing of many—it’s that you don’t sugarcoat things. Meaning, you would tell me if something weird was going on, right?”

“Right. But the thing is, you’re very happy right now. Confident, even. Accomplished.” He steps away and gestures toward the kitchen. “And I cooked us this dinner. I’m not great at cooking. In fact, some would say I’m terrible. But I put my best effort in, and I think it’s at least edible.”

I frown, confused. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m just saying, maybe we should enjoy tonight. Eat.” He raises his champagne glass in a faux toast. “Drink. Be merry. I can tell you the bad thing tomorrow.”

Bad thing. My stomach trips over itself. What bad thing?

I wish I could be the kind of person who ignores the warning signs, who can compartmentalize well enough to just enjoy myself for a while. But I’m not, and I never will be.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” I mutter.

Liam runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. Finally, he places a gentle hand on my shoulder and guides us over to the couch. We sit together in stilted silence.

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