Chapter 6: Checking Out

The knock on Liam's apartment door came at eleven-thirty on Friday night, exactly five days after their ultimatum conversation. He'd been pacing his living room like a caged animal, nursing his third whiskey and trying not to check his phone every thirty seconds.

Through the peephole, he saw her—disheveled, rain-soaked, but with something different in her posture. Something that made his heart race before he even opened the door.

"It's done," she said without preamble, stepping into his apartment and leaving puddles on his hardwood floor. "I ended it."

The words hit him like a physical blow. Relief, triumph, and something deeper flooded through his system as he took in her appearance. Her mascara was slightly smudged, her hair damp from the October rain, but her eyes...her eyes were clear and bright with something he'd never seen before.

Freedom.

"Are you okay?" he asked, closing the door behind her.

She laughed, and the sound was different—lighter, unrestrained. "I'm terrified and exhilarated and completely exhausted, but yes. I'm more than okay."

Before he could respond, she was in his arms, kissing him with desperate intensity. This wasn't the careful passion of their stolen office moments—this was raw, unguarded, real. She was kissing him like a woman with nothing left to lose and everything to gain.

"Tell me what happened," he said when they finally broke apart, his hands framing her face.

"I will. But first..." She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "First, I need you to know that I didn't choose you because I was running from him. I chose you because you make me remember who I am when I'm not afraid."

The words sent heat straight through him. "Chloe—"

"Let me finish." Her fingers pressed against his lips. "I chose you because you see me. Really see me. Not some idealized version or a project to control, but me. The real me, with all my flaws and complications and stubborn independence."

"You're perfect exactly as you are," he said roughly.

"No, I'm not. But with you, I don't have to pretend to be."

She kissed him again, softer this time, and he could taste the salt of tears he hadn't seen her shed.

"Now," she said, settling onto his couch and pulling him down beside her. "Do you want to hear about the most terrifying conversation of my life?"

---

"I went to his apartment after work," she began, her fingers intertwined with his. "I'd been planning what to say all week, rehearsing it like a script. But when I got there, he had dinner waiting. Candles, wine, the whole romantic setup."

Liam's jaw tightened. "He knew."

"He suspected something. Maybe not specifically about you, but he could tell I was pulling away. So he pulled out all the stops—told me he loved me, that he wanted to marry me, that he'd already looked at rings."

The thought of Mark proposing to her made something violent stir in Liam's chest. "What did you say?"

"I said no." Her voice was quiet but steady. "I told him I couldn't marry him because I didn't love him. Not the way he deserved to be loved."

"How did he react?"

Her fingers tightened on his. "At first, he tried to convince me I was just scared. That marriage was a big step and cold feet were normal. When that didn't work, he got angry."

Liam could feel tension radiating through her body at the memory. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not physically. But he said things..." She took a shaky breath. "He told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life. That no one else would ever love me the way he did. That I was damaged goods and he was the best I could hope for."

Red-hot rage blazed through Liam's veins. "Son of a bitch."

"I almost believed him," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "For a minute, standing there in his perfect apartment with his perfect life laid out like a trap, I almost believed that he was right. That I was broken and ungrateful and lucky to have him."

"But you didn't."

She looked up at him, and her smile was fierce with newfound strength. "No. Because I remembered what you said about deserving more. And I realized that even if I never saw you again, even if this thing between us burned out in a week, I'd rather have five minutes of feeling truly alive than fifty years of feeling dead inside."

The raw honesty in her voice made his chest ache. "You'll never have to settle for feeling dead inside again. Not with me."

"I know." She cupped his face with her free hand. "That's why I'm here. That's why I walked out of that apartment and drove straight to you in the rain without looking back."

"No second thoughts?"

"Only one," she said, and his heart stuttered. "I kept thinking I should have done this years ago."

Relief flooded through him so powerfully he felt lightheaded. "How did you leave it with him?"

Her expression darkened slightly. "He followed me to the door, saying he'd give me time to think it over. That I'd come to my senses and realize what I was throwing away. I told him there was nothing to think over, that my decision was final."

"And then?"

"Then he said something that made me understand exactly what kind of man I'd been with." Her voice carried a chill that made him lean closer. "He said that if I thought I could do better than him, I was delusional. That he'd make sure everyone knew what kind of woman I really was."

Protective fury roared through Liam like wildfire. "He threatened you."

"He threatened my reputation. Said he'd tell people I was cheating, that I was unstable, that I'd used him for his connections and then discarded him when something better came along."

"Let him try," Liam said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Let him try to spread lies about you and see what happens."

The possessive protectiveness in his tone sent heat spiraling through her. "You can't fight all my battles for me, Liam."

"Watch me."

She kissed him then, fierce and grateful and full of emotion. "I love that you want to protect me," she murmured against his lips. "But I can handle Mark. I know his weaknesses now, his insecurities. If he tries to destroy my reputation, I'll destroy his right back."

The steel in her voice reminded him why he'd fallen for her in the first place. She wasn't just beautiful—she was formidable.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"Now?" Her smile was radiant with possibility. "Now we figure out what this is when we don't have to hide it. When we don't have to steal moments between crises."

"What do you want it to be?"

"Everything," she said without hesitation. "I want lazy Sunday mornings and fights about whose turn it is to do dishes. I want to meet your friends and have you meet mine. I want to take you to my favorite terrible Chinese restaurant and have you complain about the service while secretly loving the food."

Her enthusiasm was infectious, painting pictures of a future he'd never dared imagine. "That sounds perfect."

"Even the terrible Chinese food?"

"Especially the terrible Chinese food."

She laughed, and the sound filled his apartment with warmth. "There's just one complication we need to discuss."

His heart skipped. "What kind of complication?"

"The kind where I'm still technically your subordinate and office relationships are generally frowned upon by HR."

Reality intruded like cold water. In all his fantasizing about their future, he'd somehow managed to forget the professional minefield they'd have to navigate.

"We'll figure it out," he said finally. "Maybe you can transfer to another department, or I can recommend you for a promotion that would put you on equal footing."

"Or," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "we could just be very, very discreet until we figure out the logistics."

"I don't want to hide you anymore," he said fiercely. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent heat through her veins. "Soon," she promised. "But maybe we can enjoy having a secret for a little while longer? Something that's just ours?"

Before he could respond, she was kissing him again, and all thoughts of complications and logistics dissolved under the heat of her mouth. This was what mattered—this connection, this feeling of rightness that seemed to permeate every interaction between them.

"Stay tonight," he said against her lips.

"I was hoping you'd ask."

As he led her toward his bedroom, Chloe felt the last chains of her old life falling away. She was free—truly free—for the first time in years. Free to choose passion over security, excitement over predictability, love over convenience.

Because what she felt for this man who'd turned her world upside down in a week was definitely love. Fierce, consuming, terrifying love that made her want to be braver than she'd ever been.

Tomorrow they'd face the complications—the office politics, the gossip, the challenge of building something real in the midst of professional obligations. Tomorrow they'd figure out how to navigate Mark's threats and their own intense connection.

But tonight, wrapped in Liam's arms in his king-sized bed, feeling cherished and desired and completely herself, Chloe knew she'd made the right choice.

She'd chosen freedom. She'd chosen herself.

Most importantly, she'd chosen him.

And as sleep finally claimed them both, tangled together like they'd been made to fit, neither of them noticed the missed calls accumulating on her silenced phone.

Mark Sanders wasn't done with them yet.

But that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight was theirs.