CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Liam took Tillie back to the hotel, and when she left, he paced with his sense of unsettledness, rounding the room over and over until he recognized the insanity of it. He lived the confrontation with Krish over and over, seeing it from all sides. He saw the expression on Tillie's face when she looked up to him and said, "What about my mom?" and he knew she didn't mean Clare, her newly discovered mother.

The unsettledness was also over the realization that he'd recognized Tillie because he'd known her twin as a child, not because she was a soulmate. It made him ache somewhere deep, that this time he'd been so sure, and once again, he was wrong.

And if he was wrong about the sense of connecting souls, maybe he was wrong about Krish. Maybe Krish had been right all along, that Liam had no judgment in these matters. He fell in love too fast, too wildly, for it ever to be real.

But he thought of Tillie's quick mind, her metaphorical grasp of the world, her strength enduring everything she'd faced, and he felt a million layered things. Love and protectiveness and admiration and sorrow for her losses, and lust and satisfaction and yearning and contentment. He felt that she made him a better version of himself. He thought of holding her in the night, her hair streaming over them both like a silken blanket, and the emotion he felt in those moments and how it anchored him to himself in some strange way he couldn't articulate. He thought of the first sight of her, crouching down to help an old woman in the rain, leaving her umbrella—embodying kindness. He'd gone down to the gallery to find her. Even right now, he longed for her company, as if he'd found an extra arm and now needed it.

It wasn't like it had been with Opal. She had dazzled him physically, and he was enthralled by the sex. That happened to people all the time. Human beings were wired for sex and for wanting a lot of it with the possible mates who triggered the chemical response genes insisted upon.

Which was the scientific angle of soulmates, he supposed.

With Tillie, yes, he wanted her physically. He wanted to mate on some visceral level that meant children and families and all of that unfolding into the future. On some deep level, he loved that she was from his mother's village, that their bloodlines looped back and forth through time, their ancestors probably going back to the Bronze Age. He imagined a Tillie at the dawn of Stonehenge, laying an offering on the stones at the solstice, and it gave him a shiver.

Standing at the window, he looked down to the street and watched the rain make patterns on the pavements. He wished he had someone to call, to talk things out with. Krish had been his only close friend for a very long time, and maybe that had been part of the problem, too. He'd leaned on him too much. And maybe Krish had grown greedy as well.

That, too, was a thing that happened. It just did. Humans were wired to want more and more.

Leaning on the casement, he brushed a hand over his chin, feeling prickles, and took a breath, centering himself. What was here now? Could he stand just in his body and be aware?

He took a breath, let it go. His thoughts chased themselves around his mind: Krish, Tillie, India, the workshops that had grown so crazy and out of control. He let them whirl round and round.

Standing in his body, he felt his empty belly. His arms were cold from the draft off the window. He had a little ache in his midchest that might be missing Tillie, or sadness over the loss of the cheerful lunch he'd been anticipating. Perhaps he should return to Clare's. She must be so devastated by all of this. And Sage, too, although of all of them, she'd been the calmest.

He left the window and sat down on the big chair, wrapped a blanket around his cold shoulders, and settled in for meditation. Muddy waters, left to stand, would clear. He sat for an hour, sat in the moment and his body.

As he sat, the water cleared at last. He saw that he loved his work, truly. Loved the people who came to practice with him. Loved seeing their joy when they discovered moments of peace. He loved the love inherent in spiritual work.

Love. A sense of expansion struck him. Love like a wind or a breeze, love blowing over mountains and rivers and oceans. Love settling on him in a bar in Auckland when he saw a girl as pretty as a fairy. Love rising from a crowd at a workshop like pink steam, filling the air with a fragrance of peace. Love in the offerings, love in the app, love in Clare's kitchen and love in Sage's chocolates. Tillie's paintings and the light in her face when they made love, and the way he felt doing simple things, like eating with her.

We are all soulmates.

He saw her bending to help the old woman up, saw himself helping her up the stairs to her apartment, saw her ex in despair on the steps. Love, love, love, love.

We are all soulmates.

When he finished, he stood and opened his laptop.

What did he know for sure?

He loved the workshops. He genuinely did. The people, the pleasure of helping them find their way. He loved the big groups sometimes, and he loved the financial rewards of the app.

What he didn't love was being on the road all the time. It was draining and left him out of touch with himself. He needed a home base. His people around him.

Maybe here.

He opened his laptop.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Meeting?

Do you have some time this week for a deep talk? We should discuss how to move forward. Text me some times that work for you.

He sent the email, and then crossed his arms and tested his feelings about Krish.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Meeting

If you haven't left England, let's have a meal in London next week. I'm not sure what I'm doing with the business, but I can't see a world without you in my life.

He paused, hands on the keys. That felt wrong. Although it was painful, he needed to walk away from Krish, at least for now. He hadn't been a proper friend for a long time. He could love his old friend but also set boundaries. Maybe they could create a new relationship in the future, but that time was not now. Because Krish had overseen much of the creation of the business, it would take some time to sort it all out.

Aside from the business, Liam would miss him, his oldest friend. He didn't know how it would feel to be completely out of touch.

But after so much time and so much work, so many hours working through his own character, Liam trusted himself at last. He trusted himself . That centered place said he needed to walk away from Krish for now.

He moved the message for Krish to the trash.

Tillie texted him. I might need some time alone. Do you mind going back to Clare's without me for now?

He worried about her being alone with such a big load of information, thought about her panic attacks and the migraines and—

She was a grown woman. She'd been managing her life just fine. She didn't need rescue. She needed to sort herself out, work through everything.

He, however, needed to be around people, and his people were in that house on the hill. A little part of him wondered if they, too, needed space and time, but his need for human company was rather too large to ignore. He stalled a little by calling his mother as he walked up the hill. She answered on the first ring. "Lucky for you I've been up with a sick goat," she said.

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten to check the time. "Hi, Mum. Just needed to hear your voice."

"Oh, that's not good. What's going on, son? Aren't you in England with Clare?"

He realized she would know this story. It hadn't just happened to him, to Tillie and Clare and Sage. "I am. And there's a lot to tell. Do you have a minute?"

"Always. Let me make a cup of tea."

So he spilled out the story, about meeting Tillie and all the coincidences, and then the fact that she was Clare's lost daughter everyone had thought was dead.

"Well, no one would believe you if you told this story anywhere."

"Right?"

"And the woman, Tillie. Is she important to you?"

"It's new," he said, like an adult. "But yes, I think she is."

"Another soulmate," she said with a droll tone.

He didn't take offense. "Well, it does seem fated."

She laughed. "In this case, you're right. Get off the phone. I need to call Clare."