Chapter b35 /b

But I don’t.

Because suddenly, she sighs.

And it’s soft, barely more than a breath, but it sends warmth curling in my stomach.

I swallow hard, turning my head slightly.

She’s right there.

Her curls brush against my jaw, and her breath is warm against my

corbone.

This is… not normal.

This is the kind of moment that happens in those ridiculous romance books she reads. The kind where the guy stares at the girl for way too long, trying to figure out what she smells like.

(For the record, she smells like vani and something sweet, like she might have made it in the bakery.)

I shake my head at myself.

What the hell am I doing?

I exhale and close my eyes.

Sleep. That’s what I need.

I’ll wake her up in an hour. Maybe.

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13 b18 /b

Chapter b35 /b

EMILIA

When I finally wake up, we’re already in Chicago.

I blink, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, only to realize—

I’m way too close to Liam.

Like, basically pressed against him.

My cheek is on his shoulder, my hand resting somewhere near his chest, and–oh God–his arm is draped across myp like it just ended up there.

Heat floods my face as I sit up way too fast.

Liam stirs beside me, lifting his head. His voice is rough with sleep. “You‘ re up?”

“You let me sleep?” I whisper, my eyes darting around. The ne is still moving, taxiing down the runway, but people are already stretching, gathering their bags.

“You lookedfortable.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. His very messy, just–woke–up hair.

I swallow. “You should’ve woken me.”

He smirks,zily, like he knows something I don’t. “Yeah? You seemed pretty happy where you were.”

I

open my mouth, then close it again. I was not.

Was I?

No. Definitely not.

I clear my throat, looking away. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

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b13 /b18

Liam just chuckles, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifts slightly, and.I snap my gaze toward the window.

Nope. Not looking.

The captain’s voice crackles over the speaker, announcing our arrival. I grab my bag and pretend my heart isn’t doing something weird.

It doesn’t matter that my skin feels a little too warm.

It doesn’t matter that I can still feel the weight of his arm across myp.

It definitely doesn’t matter that for the first time since agreeing to this whole fake–date disaster…

I kind of forget it’s fake.

The thought barely even settles before I snort. Forge it’s fake? Yeah, right.

We get off the ne and the first thing I think is: The airport is total chaos. Not as bad as it was in New York, but bad enough to make me dizzy with a headache.

People are rushing with their suitcases rolling, voices echo overhead. I grip the handle of my bag tighter, my steps quickening to keep up with

Liam.

He walks like he owns the ce–long strides, hands shoved in his pockets, like he doesn’t even notice the stares. And there are stares. A few people nce our way, their eyes narrowing like they’re trying to figure out if he’s someone famous.

Which, well. He is.

“Keep your cap low,” Liam mutters, barely looking at me as we weave through the crowd. “And try not to look suspicious.”

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13-18

I scoff. “How am I supposed to not look suspicious when you say it like that?”

He shoots me a grin, eyes dancing with amusement. “Just don’t start speed–walking like you’re running from the police.”

“I wasn’t-”

“You were.”

I huff but slow my pace, trying to act natural. It’s harder than it sounds.

J

We push through customs, pick up our checked luggage, and finally step outside into the cool Chicago air. The sky is clear, the sun bouncing off ss skyscrapers. A car is already waiting for us at the curb–a sleek ck SUV with tinted windows.

Liam opens the door and gestures for me to get in first. I roll my eyes but slide inside, settling into the leather seat as he follows, shutting the door

behind him.

As the car pulls away from the curb, I let out a breath.

“We survived the airport,” I say, mostly to fill the silence.

Liam smirks. “You sound surprised.”

“A little.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. Then he pulls out his phone, typing something before ncing up at me. “We should be at the port in about half an hour.”

Right. The port. That’s what it’s called.

Because we’re not staying in Chicago–we’re heading straight to the

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cruise. The wedding cruise.

Zane and Ba’s wedding cruise.

My stomach twists.

17

28–Vouchers

I nce out the window, watching the city blur past. The streets are busy, cars honking, people moving in every direction. It’s strange, being here for the first time in almost a year. So much has changed, but it still feels… familiar.

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