Chapter 13 – Echoes Between Us

For the first time in what felt like forever, Mia didn't feel like she had to put on armor just to be around Liam.

They didn't talk about the past again—not that night, not the next few days. Instead, their conversations danced around work, art, books, and absurdly overpriced coffee. It was refreshing. Disorienting, even. Like learning to breathe again after holding her breath too long.

It started with a casual message the morning after the gala.

Liam: Don't tell me Ethan scared you off mingling for good?

She stared at the text longer than necessary, then typed back.

Mia: He scared me into reconsidering civilization entirely.

Liam: Fair. But I think there's hope for civilization… if it includes brunch.

Mia: Bribing me with carbs? Bold strategy.

Liam: Boldness is in my blood. What time should I pick you up?

And so it began.

---

Sunday brunch at Rose & Rye became their new ritual. The upscale café perched on the corner of 6th and Verona had windows that stretched to the sky and waiters who knew Mia's order by heart—cappuccino with almond milk and a ridiculous mountain of strawberry waffles.

Liam always ordered something boring—black coffee, eggs, toast—and teased her mercilessly about her sweet tooth.

"You eat like a six-year-old at a carnival," he said one morning, watching as she stabbed a syrup-soaked berry.

She grinned. "And yet, I still manage to charm billionaires."

He smirked. "Correction: you confuse them. It's a defense tactic."

She rolled her eyes. "No, you confuse them. With that whole 'mysterious alpha male who broods in corner offices' act."

"Not an act."

"That's what makes it worse," she laughed.

They spent hours there. Talking. Laughing. Letting silences settle in when they needed to. There were moments—tiny, barely-there moments—when her fingers brushed his as she passed the sugar. When their eyes met across the table, and neither looked away too quickly.

But Mia didn't overthink those. Couldn't.

She was still recovering from the last time she mistook closeness for love.

---

One Thursday afternoon, Liam texted her again.

Liam: Client canceled last minute. Art gallery? I owe you a revenge date after brunch #3.

Mia: A gallery counts as revenge?

Liam: Only if you bring your loudest opinions.

Mia smirked, already grabbing her purse.

---

The gallery was tucked inside a converted warehouse in Tribeca. Minimalist, too-white walls with splashes of abstract chaos. Mia walked in wearing deep burgundy lipstick and oversized sunglasses, entirely unbothered by the critics who eyed her like she didn't belong.

Liam stood at her side in a navy trench coat, amused as ever.

"What do you think?" he asked, gesturing at a sculpture that looked suspiciously like a twisted car muffler.

Mia squinted. "I think someone's getting paid a lot to recycle junk creatively."

Liam chuckled. "You're going to get us kicked out."

"I dare them to. I look fabulous."

They wandered for nearly an hour, discussing color theory, pretentious titles, and whether a painting titled 'Inner Struggle #17' was worth six figures.

But as they reached the back of the gallery, a quiet hush settled over them.

The final installation was a series of portraits—raw, haunting. Faces caught between emotion and restraint. Each one held a story, and Mia found herself lingering on a woman with tired eyes and smudged lipstick.

"She looks like she's about to walk away from something," she whispered.

Liam stepped beside her. "Or someone."

They stood in silence.

And then he said, quietly, "I think about it sometimes."

She glanced at him. "Think about what?"

"If things had gone differently."

Mia turned her gaze back to the portrait. "Me too."

There was no anger in her voice. No bitterness. Just truth.

"But maybe," he added, "this version of us… is stronger."

Mia met his eyes. "Or smarter."

"Definitely sassier," he teased, bumping his shoulder lightly into hers.

She smiled. "You're not so bad as a friend, Bennett."

"Careful," he said, lips twitching. "I might take that as permission to text you during business meetings."

"Only if you send memes."

---

Later that night, Mia lay in bed, scrolling through her phone, smiling like an idiot at their thread of bad memes and sarcastic GIFs.

She'd missed this. Not just the laughter or the easy rhythm of banter—but the feeling of being known. Seen.

And with Liam… it wasn't just about the past anymore.

It was about rediscovering someone in the present. Building something different. Slower.

It terrified her.

But it also warmed her in a place she thought had gone cold.

---

Meanwhile, Liam stood by the window in his penthouse, staring out at the city, a glass of whiskey in hand.

He couldn't stop thinking about her—how her laugh had sounded in the gallery. The way her eyes had softened when they talked about starting over.

He hadn't expected this.

Not this version of Mia. Not this version of them.

But now that he had it, he wasn't sure he could settle for anything less.

Not again.

He didn't know where it was headed.

But for the first time, he was willing to take the long way there.

Even if it meant starting as friends.

Especially if it meant starting as friends.