I knew little about London, other than what I’d learned from my driver and the bit of information Liam had told me. I knew that the cute townhome-styled hotel I was staying at was in the district of Kensington in central London. From there, my options seemed endless.
According to the colored lines on my map, I could hop on the tube at the nearest underground station and head west into Notting Hill or east toward Tower Hill, where I could walk the River Thames and catch sight of the London Bridge, Big Ben, and the Tower of London. All the things Brendan had been so excited to see on his trip there with the family.
I didn’t know if I would ever have this opportunity again, so I went on a hunt for the tube, purchased an Oyster card, and made my way east on the District line.
My nerves rattled with every step I took. Walking around a foreign city alone was more terrifying than I’d prepared for. What if I ended up traveling in the wrong direction and got lost? I only had two hundred pounds on me, which upon my arrival, I’d thought would be plenty. But in uncharted territory, my pulse wouldn’t stop racing at all the what-ifs.
I was grateful for the fear that pumped through my veins as I exited the tube and headed up the escalator toward the river. Anything to distract me from recent events. But as soon as I reached the sidewalk at the top of the steps, I froze, causing the people on my heels to mutter curse words and walk around me.
My eyes landed on a huge billboard on the side of a red bus with Liam’s smiling face holding a bundle of red roses in the shape of a heart.
Suddenly, everything I’d felt last night slammed into me. My sadness mixed with the anxiety of being so far from home became an overwhelming rush of emotion that I had no idea what to do with. Tears flooded my eyes as I held onto the stair rail for support. I had tried to be so strong, but now, all I could think about was how, even though I could be alone, it hadn’t been what I wanted at all. I’d wanted to experience all of this for the first time with Liam.
At my realization, I continued onto the sidewalk and slipped into the nearest pub. Its dark wood and Victorian architecture screamed comfort in my moment of darkness. I sat on a stool at the bar and stared at the television until the bartender finally made his way over to me.
After ordering a glass of wine, my gaze returned to the television. The local news was playing, and I found that the drama in the world, which was far more important than my own heartbreak, helped to push thoughts of Liam away.
Every now and then, I would get slightly paranoid and swear that someone was staring at me from somewhere in the bar. But then when I would look at them, they would turn their head so fast that it made me wonder if I’d just had too much to drink.
It was silly to think my face would be recognizable from the photos that had leaked after they’d aired last night or from the video that had exposed just how much Liam’s words had hurt to hear. Then again, it was silly for me to fly all the way to London only to find myself in a pub, alone, in the middle of the foreign city.
“Another pinot?” the bartender asked, reaching for my empty glass.
“Oh yes,” I said with a nod. “And pizza. Do you have pizza?”
The man smiled and shook his head. “Afraid not, love. You’ve come to the wrong pub if you want pizza.” He slid a menu to me, and I frowned at the millionth reminder of how far away from home I was.
“Okay then, what do you recommend?”
As he started to rattle off popular menu items, a voice on the television screen caught my attention, and I looked up. It was a commercial for the reunion episode of British Bachelor that would be airing live tonight.
My chest tightened as I focused back on the bartender. I shook my head and pushed the menu back toward him. “I think I’ll stick with wine.”
Life had an interesting way of flipping me on my ass from time to time. I just hoped I wouldn’t fall on mine by the time I ended up leaving this pub.
35
Liam
I was living a nightmare, in a prison of my own making. What I’d become was worse than a robot. I was a man living the tale of my own lie, and I hated myself for it. Most of all, I hated what I’d done to Chelsea in the process.
It was the night of my final contractual obligation, the reunion show that had been all the buzz since my return last week. Everything I’d done over the last five days had prepped the viewers for what was to—in their eyes—be the showdown of the century. It would be drama in its finest form as the women I’d dumped on television came to confront me with their feelings.
I was ready for the punches that, at one point, even I’d thought I deserved. The audience and the women certainly thought that I did. But I’d accepted the fact that even though I’d only tried to follow the truth in my heart, I hadn’t signed up for that. I’d signed up to very publicly date women with the expectation that I would pick the one I would want to spend forever with. Unfortunately, that woman hadn’t been chosen for the show.
Bart stepped into my dressing room without knocking. “Good in here, mate?”
I gritted my teeth, ready to remind him that I wasn’t his “mate,” but he didn’t give me time to speak. He knew I was still furious at him for the arrangements he’d made behind my back.
“I came to say the show is starting in thirty minutes. Colin will introduce the ladies, bring them out, have a quick chat, then we’ll be calling to bring you out.”
I nodded, refusing to speak to the man I’d once considered a friend.
He sighed, already fed up with the silent treatment I’d been giving him. “Right, well, this will all be over soon.”
After what had happened the night before, my excitement for the show ending had faded. There was nothing to look forward to without Chelsea waiting for me on the other side of the camera. She was gone, and I had no idea where to start looking. Without my phone, I couldn’t even attempt to track her down.
“This will all be over soon for you.” I narrowed my eyes at Bart as I spoke. “But thanks to you, I’ll be living this nightmare until Chelsea forgives me. You had no right to contact her behind my back.”
Bart shook his head. “It’s my job, Liam, and I’m damn good at it. You might not like my methods, but if you hadn’t said what you said last night, you and Chelsea would probably be shagging right here, right now. You mucked that up, not me. Take some accountability for once.”
Without another word, he slipped out the door and slammed it behind him.
Talk about sitting in the hot seat. Every eye in the room was focused on me for the majority of the segment. The cast of women sat on a bleacher-style setup off the edge of the main stage while the host of British Bachelor, Colin, sat across from me on an oversized chair.
Thanks to my month-long holiday after the show, everyone seemed to be wound up for the grand showdown. The pent-up anger was apparent from the moment I stepped on stage, and the crowd started to boo, clap, cheer—the greeting was a healthy mixture of all the above.
The women were as heated and as pissed as ever. Colin was definitely playing up the sympathy card. The audience’s oohs and aahs were perfectly timed. And I just sat there, feeling like a complete arse, listening as they vocalized their frustrations with me as they recapped dates they thought had gone perfectly.