“Hello.”
“Yes, hello. Is this Chelsea Banks?”
Disappointment sank low in my gut. “This is she.”
“Sorry to bother, miss. My name is Bart Landers. I’m Liam’s producer from British Bachelor. I’m calling to talk to you about Liam, if that’s all right.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “Is he okay?”
A chuckle floated over the line. “Yes, miss. He’s all right. However, he’s told me quite a lot about you, and I gather that you might feel the same about him?”
And now every organ in my body was officially melting to the floor. “Of course I do.”
It was in that next breath that I caught myself for talking to a complete stranger about my relationship with Liam. Who was this man? If he was the same Bart that Liam had been dealing with over the last week, then I probably shouldn’t have trusted a word he said.
“I’m sorry.” I laughed through my discomfort. “Why are you calling me instead of Liam?”
“Yes, to the point. Poor Liam has been through the wringer lately, and the network would love to put a smile on his face. Would you be interested in taking a trip to London?”
The first thing I thought of was how I wanted nothing more than to be with Liam during this crazy time. But then I remembered what Liam had said about it being best that I wasn’t there. “I mean, I would love to, but I don’t think that’s what Liam wants right now.”
“Nonsense,” Bart exclaimed. “Well, it’s meant to be a surprise, but by the way he speaks about you, I know he’ll be delighted to see you.”
“Won’t he be too busy?”
“Oh yes, he’ll be terribly busy, but with you by his side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. We’ll pay for your ticket, put you up in a hotel, take care of your room service, and arrange transportation to wherever you’d like to go.”
Bart’s offer was generous. More than generous. Maybe Bart wasn’t as bad of a guy as Liam thought. And after hearing Liam’s frustration this morning, all I wanted to do was be with him. The offer was more than tempting. Why should I sit back and wait for Liam? I was going to go to him.
33
Liam
The three days after my arrival became a monotony of recycled questions, vague answers, and a whole lot of wasted time—time I could have been spending with Chelsea and figuring out my next career move. In the rare moments of silence that fell on me between media appearances, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I could do once I fulfilled my contract with the network, when the chains were finally broken and I was free to live a life away from the camera’s eye.
Ever since my talk with Chelsea about the possibility of becoming a swim instructor and owning a tattoo shop, I’d felt excited about the future. It finally felt like a blank page ready to be written and filled with new dreams. Just a few more days of this madness, then it would be over for good.
I had to applaud myself. So far, I’d managed to stay on track giving everyone what they wanted—interviewers, fans of the show, and the network.
Bart proved to be useful in keeping my spirits up and reminding me that the press tour would all be over soon. And so far, even I was pleased with how well it was going.
My anxiety dwindled quickly over having to dig a little deeper while speaking to the media about Blake and how his tragedy had changed me as a man and as someone who sought love. It actually started to become cathartic to talk about. Yes, I’d had a rough time after his death, especially once my Olympic career had faded into the background after my injury. The media embraced my story and started to spin me in a completely different light.
We were currently in the back of the company-provided car, on our way to a late-night talk show, Good Evening with Hannah. Bart was prepping me with questions, as he always did, when I noticed something felt different.
“Why aren’t we sticking with our regular questions for this one?”
Bart looked up from his phone, where he was reading off the questions. “That happens after the same questions have been answered multiple times. It’s all normal. Interviewers who are doing their homework won’t want to put regurgitated questions out there, so they’ll change it up a bit. Nothing to worry about.”
Something still didn’t sit right. I waved it away as the nerves that came with going off script. I’d just gotten comfortable with the press tour. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now it felt like I was teetering off balance, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Just be on your toes, and try to stay close to the answers we’ve already discussed. You’ll be fine.”
I shifted my gaze to the roof of the car and sighed. His instructions to be vague were getting boring, but I knew it was better than elaborating and opening the door to more questions.
As I looked out the window, disappointment only added to my growing anxiety. I wished I could ring Chelsea. She always had a special knack for putting my mind at ease. I needed that now more than ever. Instead, I thought about what time it would be back in Providence and tried to guess what she was doing. She was probably busy with the twins or working on her book or taking a swim in that saggy one-piece ensemble I loved so much.
Whatever it was, I hoped she would stay off social media as much as possible. When I saw her again, I wanted us to start with a clean slate.
We arrived at the back door of the building thirty minutes before my interview time, and I was rushed straight to a dressing room, where I was told to wait until someone came to get me. Looking around at the plain brown couch and vanity mirror against one wall, I felt like the room was more like a holding cell than a dressing room. They didn’t even have a television for me to watch the live filming.
Everything about the evening felt off, and I couldn’t shake the vibe as I downed a bottle of water. After using the restroom and giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I jumped around a bit to try to shake my nerves. A quick tap on the door came twenty minutes later before it opened, and a man wearing a microphone on his head stepped into the room.
“Liam Colborn, you’re on deck.”
Bart clapped me on the back as I walked by him before he followed me out to the side stage, where we waited in the wings. A few minutes later, a video reel of my time on British Bachelor played, then the hosts were making my introduction to the audience. Just as the welcome applause started along with music from the live band, I was ushered out to the stage.
I put on my smile and waved to the crowd, the routine beginning to feel so natural it was almost robotic. Considering I was functioning on five hours of sleep, I was most certainly operating like a robot.
The questions started out the same as any other interview. Thankfully, the hosts were as funny as they were serious, and there was a good mixture throughout the start, but that feeling in my gut continued to gnaw away with every minute that ticked on.
“I have to say,” Hannah said, her body perfectly poised, her blond hair in a short bob around her head. “Your story is fascinating. Between the tragic loss of your brother, Blake, followed by your time in the Olympics that ended in a career-ending accident, you were so young and endured so much loss. I imagine that loss had to have tied into your time on the show.”