But the thought lacked its usual punch of bitterness. For years he’d been bothered that Liz had underestimated him the way his parents had. Assuming that because he was quick to smile, because he prioritized fun and liked to do things on his own timeline in his own way, that he wasn’t serious about anything, or anyone.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have been happy there,” he agreed. “Maybe New York has always been my place. And maybe Audrey’s always been the one.”

He said it to push Liz’s buttons, but the moment the words were out of his mouth, Clarke felt thunderstruck. Not because the statement felt absurd, but because it didn’t.

Maybe Audrey’s always been the one.

Stunned, Clarke sat back all the way in his chair, finally registering what had been nagging at him for weeks. That in spite of Elizabeth and his mother’s manipulations, and even with the sheer savage annoyance of Scandal Boy, Clarke had never felt more centered than he had this past month.

As though his life was finally on track.

Clarke gave a quick shake of his head. Clearly this whole game he and Audrey were playing had started messing with his mind.

Elizabeth studied him closely, then frowned as though frustrated he wasn’t an open book.

“Clarke.” She started to reach across the desk, then, sensing her mistake in trying to touch him, pulled her hand back and simply looked at him steadily. “I miss you.”

Clarke couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by the announcement or not. On one hand, he wasn’t. Liz hadn’t been exactly subtle in her attempts to reconnect with him recently. But on the other hand, the Liz he’d known, or at least thought he’d known, had rarely expressed emotions, much less vulnerability, and he couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about this whole thing.

“Why?” he asked.

She laughed. “Why? Because you’re, well… we were good together.”

“Were we?”

“Clarke.” She was exasperated. “You know we were. We dated for a year. You don’t stay together that long if there’s not something there.”

“True. You also don’t leave town if there’s something there.”

“You know I had to leave. The opportunity—”

“You couldn’t turn it down, I understand that. I respected it. But you made it clear I didn’t have a part in that chapter of your life. Long distance wasn’t on the table, and you didn’t ask me to come along for the ride.”

“Would you have?”

He looked down at the desk, considering. “I don’t know,” he answered finally. “But the fact that you didn’t ask spoke volumes.”