My throat and chest ached. The craft jolted into our ascent, and I pressed my fingers to the cool window, my heart pleading for Liam to just once look my way. He did not. But I never took my eyes off him until the pilot banked into a turn, forcing my gaze forward, where I would have to deal with the fallout of my life.
The reality was that if anyone was to blame for Willow’s death, it was me for getting her mixed up in this insane situation. How would I explain any of it to her family? Our mutual friends?
Would I fly to the funeral with Liam? Would Nathan come?
I covered my face with my hands. All of this was too much. Far more than I could comfortably contain, especially considering that all along, I was the girl who’d already considered herself dead. But now, my friend who’d seized every moment of life was the one truly gone.
Liam
“What the hell, man?” Owen answered his front door wearing pajama bottoms and a Nirvana Tshirt. It was just shy of one a.m., and through his yawn he looked pissed. But then he must have realized that I wouldn’t be here unless there was a problem I couldn’t tackle. “You look like shit. Come in.”
In the shadow-filled entry hall, I shuffled past a half-dozen cardboard boxes and more Barbies and friends than I could count—most were naked. What the hell kind of kids was my friend raising?
We passed the formal living and dining rooms to enter the open kitchen and family room.
“Hungry?” Owen asked. He already had his head stuck in the open fridge.
“No.” I sat at the elevated portion of the counter bar, shoving aside someone’s homework to make room for my elbows. The only light spilled from a fixture mounted above the sink. I welcomed the gloom.
He emerged with sandwich fixings, piled them on the center island, then returned for mustard and mayo. “Ever going to tell me why you’re here?”
“It’s complicated. I probably shouldn’t have even come.”
“But you did, and I’m up, so spill it.”
I forced a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “Did Garrett tell you Ella’s friend Willow died?”
“Shit . . .” He licked mayo from the side of his ring finger.
“Yeah . . .”
“Legal repercussions?”
“No. I don’t know.” That I’d never even thought about the fact that this whole turn of events could leave us wide open for a lawsuit wasn’t good. Before Ella, growing my empire had been my sole reason for living. Now, I felt trapped in murky gray. I didn’t know what I believed in or was searching for. All I did know was that for about an hour tonight—or, I guess now, that would be last night—I’d felt startlingly complete. And at this moment, I didn’t.
He’d finished making his sandwich and screwed the lid on a jar of wasabi mustard. How bizarre that that one request back in Ella’s snack bar had begun my unraveling. “Taking a stab here, but am I safe in assuming your visit has something to do with Ella?” I nodded.
“What happened?” He added a heap of Fritos to his plate, then a pickle.
Where did I begin? Coming over here had initially seemed like such a great idea. For a while after Ella left, I’d sat in her newly filled closet, just staring at her clothes. The shoes and purses and jewelry. The space had been filled only a fraction of the way. For the first time ever, I’d envisioned myself with Ella long-term. I’d wanted to cram that closet full of feminine niceties, watching her try on and purchase clothes from every continent. I’d wanted to make her every wildest dream come true. But how? Nothing I did impressed her.
Owen finished his latest bite, then yawned. “Dude . . .”
“What if what I feel for Ell goes deeper than usual?”
He damn near choked on his sandwich. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been with a woman longer than a few months—and even then, what? Like twice?”
“I haven’t been counting.”
“What’s your bottom line here? Do you—”
“Liam?” Owen’s wife, Natalie, wandered sleepy-eyed into the kitchen. “What’re you doing? And you—” She tore Owen’s sandwich from his mouth, then tossed it and the chips in the trash.
“What the hell?” he complained.
She offered him his pickle. “You can have this and a banana.”
“Stay single,” he mumbled to me.
“Ha ha.” Natalie opened the freezer and removed a pint of Chunky Monkey. “You’re the one who begged me to help you drop thirty pounds by your class reunion.” Owen groaned. “Don’t remind me. You going?” he asked me. “It’s not even on my radar.” I ignored his dirty look.
“Back to you, Liam,” Natalie said. “Ever going to tell me why you’re in my kitchen in the middle of the night?”
“Lady problems,” Owen offered. He towered by eighteen inches over his wife, and took her ice cream and spoon.
“Creep!”
While Owen circled the island, she chased. He’d taken four heaping spoonfuls before she tackled him on the family room sofa, where he howled upon landing. “Son of a bitch . . .” He fished a Tonka truck out from under his back and pitched it clattering to the wood floor. To me, he advised, “Don’t ever get married, and for sure don’t have kids.”
“You know you love us.” Natalie had curled onto the sofa alongside him, and Owen fed her a bite of his stolen treat.
“Sometimes . . .” Owen grumbled before kissing the crown of her head.
My friends’ scene of playful affection left me spellbound.
This was exactly what I wanted. Not just a sex buddy, but someone to really play with, talk with, and nag me about what I’m eating. What must that feel like, to be with someone who truly cared? My conscience recalled Ella having tried to call me a dozen times, but I’d been too wrapped up in my own issues to dare answer. In the time we’d known each other, had I even given her an opportunity to show me she cared about me that I hadn’t shot down?
When Owen and Nat started making out, I took that as my cue to leave.
I’d almost reached my car when my cell rang.
It was Owen. “Sorry about the interruption, man. What can I say? I’ve got a hot wife.
Where are you?”
“Headed home. It’s already been a long day.”
“All right, but stop by my office in the morning. We’ll talk more then.”
“Will do.” I climbed in my car and tossed the phone on the passenger seat.
I was halfway home, feeling disgusted with myself and my situation, when it occurred to me that if Ell and I ever had more than an hour or two of peace, we might share the same sort of camaraderie as Owen and Nat. But how was I supposed to know when I was so damned hyperconscious of trying not to frighten her off that aside from our lone night at the beach, we hadn’t shared time that could even be considered normal?
If I had my way, that would change.
Julie
I eased my key into the apartment’s lock, trying not to wake Nathan, but I needn’t have bothered as he sat on the sofa, watching hockey. The contrast between this place and Liam’s came as a shock, but somehow this humble abode struck me as more cozy.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” I said, removing first one boot, then the other.
“Nice hair. Did he buy it for you?”
“Nathan . . .”
“While you were off playing dress-up, did you happen to hear that Willow died? It’s all over TMZ and Twitter. They’re calling her the Billionaire’s Bimbo.” My stomach clenched.
“Ironic, considering she’d never even kissed him. You’re the real bimbo.”
“Screw you.” I took off my vest on the way to the bedroom.
He was off the couch, and right behind me. “Is that what you were doing tonight, Jules? Screwing?”
I pitched my vest on the bed, then spun around to face him. “As a matter of fact, I was screwing. And it was awesome.” For the first time since my husband literally carved his proof of ownership onto my body, I felt pretty, and wanted, and wholly in control. “But th
en I found out Willow died and not only was this precious night ruined, but everything else. How can I ever have another second of normalcy, knowing she’s dead? And the reason she’s dead is because she followed me here.”
“No she didn’t.”
Why, I couldn’t fathom, but he drew me into his arms. “Point of fact, Willow was the one who talked you into coming. For that matter, I guess I did, too. You were the only one not onboard. Oh—and I also don’t remember you forcing her to party every night once she got here. According to everything I’ve heard, she died of an accidental cocaine overdose. She’d been nagging me to find her some long before the two of you even met. I told her I couldn’t get any, but that was a lie. I’ve known girls like her. They go fast and hard, and usually just end up pregnant, living in a double-wide with some asshole white-trash husband and six kids. She didn’t have to die, but she made the conscious choice to do blow. That had nothing to do with you.” Or Liam. But I’d blamed him as surely as I had myself.
“Her funeral’s Friday,” I said against Nathan’s chest. As usual, he was here for me when
Liam wasn’t. But how was that assessment fair when if I hadn’t been such a bitch to Liam, odds were we’d still be together now? “Liam offered to fly us to Rose Springs on his jet.”
“Of course he did.” Nathan released me, raising his hands only to let them fall with an exasperated smack against his outer thighs. “As usual, Prince Liam, charging to the rescue. But he couldn’t save Willow, could he?”
“That’s not fair. You said yourself she caused her own death.”
“That’s right. I did, didn’t I? But there’s one thing I forgot to mention—the fact that I might not have been able to save Willow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least try saving you. When are you going to realize that the guy only causes you pain?”
Before running into him in Willow’s hospital room, before tonight’s physical free-for-all, I used to believe that—that Liam was only out to use me. But now, deep down, I knew better. After I’d called him sick, I thought he’d been mad at me, and that was why he’d cast me away, but honestly? I now wondered if there’d been another emotion causing his caustic front. What if, like me, he’d been hurt? And what if, also like me, he’d become such a loner that he believed he had nowhere to turn other than inward to express his innermost demons? What if he carried just as many dark secrets as I did? Only I’d been so wrapped up in my own heartache, I’d never even thought to ask about his?
Maybe it was me who didn’t deserve him? But I wanted him. Oh, how I wanted him.
Every part of my being screamed that we were meant to be, but how would that ever happen when I kept pushing him away?
Nathan went to bed.
I soaked in the tub.
Reaching low, I touched the nest of curls Liam had so thoroughly satisfied. Would we ever be together again?
I hoped so. God, I hoped so.
Sunday, Nathan hung out at a friend’s and I slept.
Monday, though I suppose I could have driven to work, my muddied mind craved fresh air. Clouds had moved in, but thankfully, so far no rain.
It still seemed incomprehensible to me that so much had transpired in that single night. Willow had lived and died.
I’d died and then lived.
But were we really so different, considering my fear that if I didn’t straighten things out with Liam, I might never truly live again? He’d changed me on a fundamental level. He’d made me once again believe in my God-given right to happiness. I thought Blaine had forever stolen that from me, but I’d been wrong—not only about that, but so many other things.
From that first night at the motel, when Liam had run me that warm bath, he’d been nothing but kind. Yes, he’d had piggish moments, but then, who hadn’t? Whenever he’d tried to wow me with his money, I’d been unimpressed, but how could I hold it against him when that was his way of showing me he cared?
Though I’d dressed in my usual faded jeans, T-shirt, hoodie and sneakers, part of me couldn’t help but wonder what outfit I might have selected were I back in Liam’s closet. One thought about those embroidered Gucci jeans made the girly girl still inside me smile.
“Good morning,” Yvonne said from the behind the counter. “Look at your pretty hair!” She bustled around to fluff my new layers. Even though I didn’t have a blow dryer, Mimi’s cut had been so good that her style had fallen into pace. “When did you have that done?”
“Saturday night.”
“Were you with your man?”
“For a little while.” Not planning to go into details, I headed for my break-room locker to get my frilly red apron and put it on.
“Well?” The store didn’t open for ten minutes. I hoped she didn’t plan on spending all of that time grilling me. “How was he? Did you feel him in your belly?”
I took me a sec to realize that in her skewed English, her comment had been far from sexual. Only in my mind had it gone straight to the gutter. What would her reaction be if I’d admitted, Why yes, Yvonne, as a matter of fact, I felt him just about everywhere . . .
When I nodded, my cheeks burned.
“Oh, I’m so glad.” She brought her hands together in an excited little clap. Never had I been happier that humans lacked the ability to read minds.
“Yvonne?”
“Yes, my sweet?” She’d moved her attention from me to filling her teakettle.
“Would it be all right if I took Friday off?”
“I suppose.” She placed the kettle on the stove and ignited the gas burner. “Do you have something special planned?”
“Uh-huh.” But not in the way she probably assumed. I needed to say goodbye to a friend. And maybe start over with a new one. Nathan had left this morning without speaking to me, so I wasn’t sure if he planned on making the trip. I selfishly hoped he didn’t. Liam and I needed all the time we could get to talk. Really talk. In the days we’d known each other, it seemed that just when we got close to reaching a new level of understanding, something went wrong. Though I, of course, couldn’t speak for him, I’d grown tired of it. I craved normalcy—not that at this point in my life I was entirely sure what that was.
By three that afternoon, my eyelids weren’t being cooperative in staying open. Now that the post-holiday rush had slowed, the shop wasn’t nearly as busy. Not a good thing, since that meant Yvonne had appointed me to be in charge of early spring cleaning. I’d playfully argued that considering the fact that it wasn’t yet the new year, we couldn’t possibly already be preparing for spring, but she wasn’t having it.
“You’ll see,” she said, handing me a feather duster, “along with pretty weather come tourists. Then we be too busy to clean.”
The task wasn’t in any way difficult, but it left me entirely too much time to think. Not just about Liam, but Nathan. He was such a sweetheart. If I’d ever thought of him romantically before having met Liam, there might have been a chance for us, but now that I’d experienced the bliss of wholly being with a man I could all too easily love, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
It was an hour later when the cheery sleigh bells Yvonne had hung over the front door jingled. Since Yvonne was in back, watching that day’s recorded The Young and the Restless, I happily set my duster on a shelf filled with toy trains, then set off to greet the customer.
“Hey, Ell . . .”
I assumed Liam wasn’t shopping after-Christmas ornament sales, which meant my pulse thundered like a herd of reindeer at the notion that he’d come to see me. Had I been right? He hadn’t been angry, but hurt? “About last night,” I worked up the courage to say, “I’m sorry I said such mean things to you. I was upset about Willow, and . . .” I shrugged, not sure what else to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t drive you home myself.”
My tongue felt like cardboard. Why was it that every time we met, it felt like starting over? I’d told myself that was what I’d wanted—a fresh start—but now that he was actually here in the
flesh, I wasn’t sure what I wanted other than for him to draw me into his arms.
“What time do you get off work?”
“Six.”
“That late?” He pouted.
I felt his pain.
“It was eight before Christmas.”
“I want you to quit this job.”
At that moment, so did I . . . “Remember our talk about you not owning me?”
“Yeah, and I regret having agreed to your stipulations. I need to talk.”
So do I. “Come back at six.”
He shook his head and walked out the door.
I spent the next two hours deciphering that shake of his head. Had it meant, Fine. See you then? Or had it meant, Forget it. Sorry I even tried?
Liam
By the time six rolled around, I’d eaten half a roll of antacids.
The fact that I could literally buy the entire town, yet Ella insisted on keeping her crap job, incensed me. In the same breath, I was proud of her work ethic, and that she wasn’t afraid to stand up to me. In my position, I encountered a lot of yes men and women. Nothing turned me off faster. In Ella’s case, nothing turned me on more than her telling me how things were going to be—that is, assuming I could then turn them around to suit me.
I waited outside her shop, blessedly anonymous in the shadows.
Paparazzi had followed me to the gym where I met my trainer, but Carol later told me a Lindsay Lohan story had broken, which might have been why they were gone by the time I’d gotten out.
I sat on a bench between two potted Christmas trees.
Ten after six, I heard Ella chatting with a woman who had a thick German accent. Her sainted boss? I waited until they’d said their goodbyes until alerting her to my presence. “It’s about time.”
She put her hands to her chest. “You scared me.”
“That wasn’t my intention. Have dinner with me?” She nodded.
I walked a couple of blocks to a food truck parked on a playground’s edge. “This okay?”
Lost (Bad Boys with Billions Book 1) Page 22