She sat up quickly, the sheet falling away from her breasts as she pulled her hair up into a quick ponytail. I swallowed and ran my fingers up her spine, wanting to calm her before things got too heated. We needed a solution, not more chaos.
“We’ll figure it out.”
She looked at me over her shoulder. “I can’t see how.”
I sat up, feeling a charge of desperation run through my veins. I pressed my lips to her back and inhaled her sweet scent—a calming breath before speaking again. “Maybe that’s the beauty in all of this. We can’t see how it will all play out, but that doesn’t mean it won’t or can’t or shouldn’t. It just means that part of our story hasn’t been written yet.”
She studied me for a minute before a small smile broke loose on her beautiful face. “I hate to break this to you, Liam, but most readers hate cliff-hangers.”
I thought about that statement and how all I’d been doing for the past few months was reacting to what everyone else thought of me, strangers, women who never truly knew or loved me. What a waste that was, caring for people who knew nothing about what was good for me.
My eyes held Chelsea’s, and I cupped her cheek as my mouth met her ear. I wanted her to hear my words with every ounce of feeling they were backed with. “Then it’s a good thing we’re writing this story for us and not the whole damn world.”
30
Chelsea
The day before Liam was scheduled to leave town, summer turned to fall. It was only a week after our talk in my bedroom, but I considered it a sign—that even though the seasons were changing, Liam and I would hold strong, like a tree that adapted with the changing climate. That was what we would do, and we would be stronger for it in the end.
I soaked in his optimistic words, his promise to return, battling the doubtful thoughts that shot up like weeds when I least expected them. I wanted to believe that we could continue dating after he dealt with things back home. After falling so deeply, I needed to believe that was true.
I used to be one of those people who had a plan for everything. Even the things I didn’t want to do made it into my planner so the job would get tackled and there would be no question of my future. But at some point along the way, I realized that my obsession with planning had played into my blindness of where I was in life versus where I truly wanted to be.
Letting go had changed my perspective in so many ways, and I hoped it would keep me afloat now.
We were hanging out in the park on Blackstone Boulevard, which we’d arrived at after much debate. Before today, we’d been keeping to ourselves in my poolhouse, but we were both going stir-crazy. As soon as we arrived, Liam spotted a shaved-ice truck and bought us one to share while I lay out a blanket for us to sit on.
I sat between his legs as he fed us both spoonfuls as we chatted. It was simple, fun, and I loved that we didn’t have to sneak around behind Bridget and Simon’s backs anymore. We’d even all had dinner together last night, like one big happy family, and Liam didn’t hide where he spent his nights anymore. It all felt so natural, so real, so right.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back home?”
“Think of you.”
His quick answer made me smile. I turned to glare at him teasingly. He chuckled and kissed my cheek.
“I’m serious, Liam. I want to know.”
“Okay, okay. I haven’t made any plans. No point, really. Bart warned me that we’ll be busy from the moment I hit the tarmac.”
I frowned, my feelings for this Bart guy becoming overwhelmingly negative. Bart was Liam’s producer, one who had specifically been assigned to him during his time on British Bachelor. I’d yet to hear a single story that made me believe he had Liam’s best interests at heart.
A shrill ring sounded, and I groaned at yet another phone call Liam had to take.
“Speak of the Devil,” Liam muttered while reading the caller ID.
“Bart?”
He nodded. “I’ll tell him I’ll call him back.”
“You don’t have to. It might be important.”
“Okay, well, I’ll make it quick.” He tapped his phone to answer the call and put it to his ear. “Hiya, Bart.”
Ever since Liam had turned his phone back on, it hadn’t stopped going off. Mostly, it was Bart making plans and informing him of conversations he would be having with producers in preparation for Liam’s return. Sometimes it was a producer who was trying to cut through Bart and speak directly to Liam. Every so often I would hear him pick up the phone and answer with a “Hiya, Mum” in a soft voice that melted my heart.
The second Liam answered the phone this time, I could hear Bart’s anger practically blow through the phone. I made a face at Liam in response and grabbed the cup of flavored ice from his hands. Settling into his arms, I scooped a mouthful to satisfy me while I tried to focus on the people in the park rather than what Liam’s conversation was about.
The park’s paths were fairly crowded, considering it was the weekend. A family of four strolled by while the kids played tag in the grass. A boy with a dog walked him on a leash. A group of bicyclists, a man snapping photos with a large black lens, a girl riding her yellow skateboard to the ramps nearby—at a quick glance, it seemed like the perfect day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The birds were chirping, and Liam was holding me tightly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
My eyes darted around again, seeing all the same things I’d spotted before. I let out a heavy breath to try to shake my nerves. Ever since that photo of Liam had appeared on social media, I’d done some investigating of my own. That photo had been taken on the day we’d visited Spill the Tea with the kids. Liam hadn’t had his shades on, and the photo had been taken by someone right outside the shop. After a quick search through all the shared photos, I’d found the original post.
Gwen had taken that photo. At some point during our visit, she’d made the connection and taken her gossip to a whole new level by making it public. Luckily, she’d left the kids and me out of the photo. I couldn’t even imagine Simon and Bridget’s fury if the twins and Brendan had been plastered all over social media too.
To top everything off, my mom had called me the day after the photos leaked, questioning me about Liam. I was vague but promised to tell her everything later. The less she knew while cameras started to pop up at the tearoom was safer for all.
Liam hung up from his call and grabbed for what was left of the shaved ice. “You sneaky woman,” he growled, making me laugh.
“It was melting,” I said in my defense.
He growled again, this time burying his mouth in my neck, and a wave of shivers erupted over my skin.
In all the chaos, one thing that remained was the calm that fell upon Liam when he would hang up the phone, every single time.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” He took the last bite and set down the empty cup beside us.
“Return to this playful, calm person after you’ve been spoken to like that. It’s not normal for people to yell all the time.”
Liam chuckled and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Bart wasn’t yelling. That’s just how he talks. But to answer your question, I’m only calm because I’m here with you.”