The quiet of the house was a different kind of silence than I was used to. It wasn’t the heavy, watchful stillness of the Vanderbilt estate; it was light, filled with the hum of the refrigerator and the distant song of a bird outside the kitchen window. Marcus was stationed at the front gate, a reassuring shadow, but inside, I was alone with my thoughts for the first time in years.
I decided then that I didn't want a "boring" evening. I wanted a celebratory one, but without the sterile luxury of a restaurant or the eyes of a waiter watching us. I wanted to nourish the man who had quite literally helped save my life.
I spent the better part of the afternoon in the kitchen, the emerald silk of my press conference dress replaced by an old pair of jeans and one of Liam’s oversized t-shirts.
