“Chelsea!”
I heard Liam calling my name. I heard his heavy steps as they chased me down the mazelike hall, but I didn’t look over my shoulder toward the voice until my hand was on the door. There he was, running toward me, his expression undeniably apologetic for what I’d heard him say. With an annoyed breath, I turned to face him.
Liam’s breathing was heavy, his skin flushed from the workout, and his eyes too wide for his face. “What are you—” he started, but he caught himself with a squeeze of his lids.
“What am I doing here? I came to surprise you, Liam. But I guess that’s not something a friend would normally do, huh?”
He shook his head as if his own word pained him. “You’re much more than a friend. You know that.”
I narrowed my eyes, my heart shredding at my doubt. “Do I? You really expect me to trust you after what you said out there. How can I?”
“Don’t you understand? I never wanted you involved in this show. This is what these people do. They catch me off guard and parade my weaknesses around like I’m a toy. You’re my weakness, and they knew it.”
My chin shook with all the emotion racking my body. Everything he said was the right thing and exactly what I wanted to hear, but I couldn’t stop the pain that came with overhearing him tell the world that I was nothing more than his friend. “I don’t know how to believe you right now.”
He let out a sigh, his chest deflating with defeat. “You promised me you could never think less of me.”
My throat felt swollen as my entire body shook. “Yeah, well maybe that was before I realized that you think less of me.” I let out a half groan, half scream. “You know what’s funny? I could have actually been your friend back in Providence if that was what you wanted, but you just kept pushing for more, didn’t you?” A tear slipped down my cheek, and I sucked in a shaky breath. “You should have left me alone.”
He reached for my arm and tugged me closer. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me the villain in your life too.”
I shook my head, my eyes wet and tired. “I didn’t do that. You did that to yourself. To us. And now it’s over.”
I pulled back to find an entire crew packed in the hallway with Bart, Hannah, and two giant black cameras. Liam turned in the direction my eyes were pointed, and his expression went from pained to furious in less than a second.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Liam’s boom reverberated down the halls and probably out to the stage and audience. “Get out of here.”
He shoved the lens of a camera away from his face while I just stood there—shocked, mortified, heartbroken, confused. And lucky for me, it had all just been caught on camera.
“You don’t have my permission to record me.” My anger was directed at Bart, my voice shaky but firm.
Bart waved his hands in front of the camera, instructing them to shut down, but it was Hannah who stepped forward to take everyone to a commercial break.
Bart turned back to us and folded his arms across his chest with a sigh. “You signed permission before entering the studio, love, but this wasn’t at all how I thought it would go down.”
Liam gawked at him. “What did you expect bringing her into this after I specifically told you not to?”
Bart shook his head. “I don’t know, Liam. I thought you would be happy, excited, surprised.” He raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “Bollocks.”
Liam was yelling at Bart, so I took the opportunity to slip out the exit, hoping to make a clean break, but Liam was right on my tail.
“Chelsea, stop. Don’t leave like this.”
I sucked in a deep breath as his arms wrapped around me and pulled me in. When I inhaled his familiar scent, I sighed almost immediately. He felt the same as he had before he left for London. His scent was the same too. And just like that, I could feel the calm that came with being with Liam. The eye of the storm before it swept us up into its wrath. I wanted to hold onto that moment, to go back to everything before this night.
“You need to do what you came here to do, Liam.” I looked up into his eyes. Though mine were still blurry, his pleading expression remained. “You were right to tell me to stay away from this world. I want no part of the lies. This isn’t reality.” I shook my head and let out a laugh. “Then again, who am I to tell you what’s real and what’s fiction when I don’t even know myself anymore.”
A car pulled up behind me, and after quickly verifying it was mine, I pushed Liam’s hands off of me and turned to get in. This time, he didn’t come after me, and I felt like we were separated by more than just a continent.
Everything leading up to my arrival at the studio had felt like it was moving in triple speed. After walking away from Liam, everything immediately slowed down.
I was in a daze, drifting from the car to the flat provided by Bart when he’d set this whole scandal up. I was certain of one thing. I wouldn’t make any decisions that night. I would sleep off my jet lag, order an insane amount of room service whenever I awoke, then I would figure out my next move.
Deep inside my heart, I knew I couldn’t let these next few days pass in vain. Easy was the route I’d taken too often in my life, from dating the wrong men far longer than I should to neglecting to tell my parents my decisions about school because I didn’t want to hear their disappointment or by rewriting a book six times instead of publishing the damn thing. Something had to change. It might as well start here and now.
By the time I finally woke, nearly twelve hours had passed. Two in the afternoon with a fresh mind and clear eyes looked and felt a whole lot different than at two in the morning after getting my heart broken in front of a live audience. I could easily spend my afternoon dwelling on the previous night, but instead, I made the decision to go a different route.
My lips flattened as irritation ran through me, and I picked up the phone.
“Room service,” announced the woman on the other end of the line.
“Hi, I’d like to place an order.” I ran my eyes down the list of food from the room service menu and stopped at an item priced at one hundred and eighty pounds. “Your caviar omelet looks delightful. Do you recommend it?”
The woman on the other end of the line choked on her words for no other reason, I guessed, than the price. “Absolutely, ma’am. The omelet is our highest-rated item from our five-star kitchen. You’ll be delighted with your choice.”
“Wonderful.” My smile grew wider. “I would love to try it and…” I looked to the next page where the drinks were mentioned. “A bottle of your most expensive champagne as well.”
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like some juice with your champagne?”
I perked up at the thought of having a mimosa. “Yes, please. Orange juice would be fantastic.”
“All right, miss. You’re all set. We’ll be up as soon as it’s ready.”
My order arrived less than fifteen minutes later, courtesy of British Bachelor, and I was happy to find that the food was more than worth the price, especially considering I wasn’t the one who would foot the bill.
After one glass of champagne, I placed the bottle back in the bucket of ice and decided to save the rest for the evening. Then I showered, changed, and headed out on the town without a plan—and with a map to help me navigate my way.