by Alexis Angel
“Oh, just a few days,” Cara says, waving her hand dismissively, as if we’re barely more than friends.
Fuck that. I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her more tightly to me.
“Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me more,” Mom says, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.
I know she can’t wait to get the dirty details about this woman who is obviously getting to me. Normally I’d do anything to avoid a conversation like this, but right now it’s almost welcome compared to the alternative of sitting around in silence thinking about what’s going on with the doctors and my dad down the hall.
“You know,” she begins, “I don’t think Liam has let me meet a single one of his dates since he was in high school.”
I laugh, trying to make light of it. “That’s because you always mixed up their names.”
Her eyebrows arch. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have changed girlfriends so fast.” She looks at Cara and gives her a conspiratorial little wink. “You know, Liam and his brother had new girlfriends every single week. I never knew what to expect with those two.”
Cara’s gaze flicks to mine at the mention of a brother. Not ready to go there, I change the subject. “So, what about you, Cara? It’s only fair you tell us about all your boyfriends since my mother is intent to air all my dirty laundry.”
She laughs. “I think everyone who has ever seen a tabloid knows all about your dirty laundry, Liam Donovan.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, but for whatever reason, I don’t want Cara thinking about me as that guy. She doesn’t linger on it, though, and entertains us with a few funny stories of how her parents embarrassed her growing up.
My mom sits there and watches us, and when I catch her eye a few minutes later, she has a knowing smile on her face like she sees something I don’t. I give her a questioning look, but she simply keeps chatting with Cara like their old friends.
I know I should be freaked the fuck out that my mom and a woman I’m dating—because let’s face it, it’s more than one date and I don’t intend on this being the last, either, so we’re dating—are sitting here discussing childhood stories. But I’m not. It feels oddly normal.
And I have no idea what to make of that.
Cara
“Mrs. Donovan?” A tall man in a long white coat asks, reading the name from a stack of document in his hands.
“That’d be me,” Liam’s mom says, going up to her feet so fast you’d say she’s still in her twenties. Both Liam and I follow suit, eager to hear whatever the doctor has to say. “Any news?”
“Yes,” the doctor says with a sigh and, for a moment, I ready myself for the bad news. But then he cracks a semi-serious smile and the lines in his face soften. “Mr. Donovan is going to be okay. We’ll still have to run some tests, just for precaution, but this wasn’t a life-or-death situation. You acted fast, Mrs. Donovan, and you got him here in time.”
“Thank God,” she exhales, one hand over her heart, and I breathe out in relief as well, feeling as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. Even though I barely know the Donovan family, I simply couldn’t help but empathize with the darkness of the whole situation.
“Well, he’s going to have to make a few adjustments to his diet, and some physical exercise will help as well. But if he’s willing to make these changes, I believe Mr. Donovan’s heart won’t trouble him that much for the rest of his life.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Liam says and, even though his voice is steady and poised as always, I can notice a slight tone of relief in his words. “Do you think we can go and see him?”
“Absolutely,” the doctor (Dr. Anderson, according to the name tag hanging from the breast-pocket of his coat) nods, waving with his arm toward the long corridor to his right, the one leading to the room where Liam’s father is. “He’s in room 213. But make it quick, please. Mr. Donovan needs some rest today.”
“Will do,” Liam replies, and then he turns on his heels and starts marching down the corridor, his mother and I trailing after him. Stopping in front of the room with the 213 number plaque, Liam grabs at the handle and turns it, pushing the door open and stepping inside carefully.
The room is small, but there’s a certain modern sleekness to the place. More than looking like an hospital room, it reminds me of an hotel room. But what was I expecting? The Donovans are a wealthy family, and I should’ve known that they wouldn’t care about cutting costs when it comes to the health of their loved ones.
Liam’s father is sitting on his bed, the sheets up to his waist, and his whole face lights up with a smile as he sees his son and wife come in. Even though he’s much older than Liam, there’s a kind of charming gruffness to the way the years have carved up the lines in his face. And his eyes… They’re exactly like Liam’s - lively and smart, they tell of an hunger for life that knows no boundaries.
“There ya are,” he says, opening his arms as Liam walks up to him. Doing it carefully, Liam hugs his father and then steps to the side, giving his place to his mother. “And you too,” he continues, smiling as he kisses her. “And who’s this lovely lady? I hope she isn’t my long lost daughter,” he says with a laugh, groaning as he shifts his sitting position on the bed.
“Be nice,” Mrs. Donovan warns him with a smile, playfully punching him in the arm.
“This is Cara, Dad,” Liam introduces me, and I take a few steps toward the bed. I offer my hand to Liam’s father and he grabs it heartily, looking at me with an expression of surprise.
“Cara… That’s a beautiful name. Short for…?”
“Caralyn,” I reply, something about him putting me immediately at ease. Even though I’ve never met him before, it feels like I’m face-to-face with an older and wiser Liam.
“Does this mean my lovely wife won’t be the only Mrs. Donovan anymore?” He asks me, his smart eyes then darting toward Liam. I know it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes type to figure out the reason why I’m inside this room with the Donovan’s, but still… Liam’s father saw it in just a few seconds.
“Come on, Dad,” Liam laughs, “you should worry about eating less steaks than about me getting a girlfriend.” Everyone in the room laughs at Liam’s joke (including me) but, at the same time, I feel an iron knot growing inside my stomach. Do you know when people feel butterflies inside their stomachs? It’s exactly the same except, instead of butterflies, I’m talking about rusty iron nails.
“What? I’m just an old man that wants to see his grandchildren running around,” Mr. Donovan continues happily, jabbing at Liam with the kind of ease that speaks of a close relationship.
“Ah, come on, Dad,” Liam laughs again, running one hand through his hair.
“Don’t mind him, Cara,” Mr. Donovan tells me softly, holding my hand and looking straight into my eyes. “He might be a tough nut to crack, but he’s a good man deep down.”
“I know,” I tell him with a whisper, my heart tightening up inside my chest.
Being here with Liam and his parents, acting as if I’m his girlfriend, pretending that there’s going to be a future for the two of us… It’s too much for me. And that’s because my job fooled me: this time I’m not going after an asshole - I’m going after the most upstanding man I’ve ever met.
And, hearing the words Mrs. Donovan on Liam’s dad’s mouth… It made me realize that I wouldn’t mind being called that. No, not all.
Except I’m a total fraud. This whole relationship was built on a string of well-calculated lies, and Liam and his parents have no idea about who the real Cara is and what she does for a living.
And once the truth gets out…
It’ll be the end of this.
Cara
“You okay?” Liam asks me, reaching across the seat and placing his hand on top of mine. I have my forehead pressed against the window of the limo, watching the streets passes us by, the pale glow of the moonlight pushing away the darkness. It’s still late in the night, but we’re still a few hours away from a
sunrise. We would’ve stayed in the hospital, but Dr. Anderson pretty much sent us on our way.
“I’m good,” I tell him, sitting up on the seat and looking into his eyes. Somehow, I manage to fake a smile. I don’t know how or when it happened but, somewhere along the way, the job I was supposed to do became a living nightmare.
For the first time in my life, I met a man I could envision a future with… And I met him because my sole purpose was to destroy him. Hooray - now I know what it means to have destiny play a cruel joke on you.
“You’re pretty quiet. Is there something on your mind?” He asks me again, trying to draw the curtain back hiding my most private thoughts, but I just smile and reassure him that I’m okay. He smiles back at me, believing me - which isn’t that surprising, since I pretty much lie for a living.
“And you? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was a bit worried back there, yeah, but everything turned out alright,” he tells me with a smile, softly holding my hand. “Hey, thanks for coming with me. I really appreciate it.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I know how it feels like to… to receive bad news,” I tell him, my mind bringing up old faded memories from so long ago.
“You do…?”
“Yeah,” I nod, thinking back to the first time I attended a funeral. “My father died of cancer back when I was in highschool. We never saw it coming. One day he gets a call from the doctor, the diagnosis is pretty dire and… well, three months later he was dead,” I say, remembering how my father looked in the hospital bed. He was so frail and thin, a distant memory of the man I was used to seeing as strong and unshakable.
“Cara… I’m so sorry,” he says, his words tender and sweet, genuine care in his voice.
“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it. It hurt a lot at first… but then you learn to treasure the good memories. It’s just life, I guess. No one can run away from it.”
“I know. Life’s tough,” he replies solemnly, and then he averts his gaze. Looking out the window, he remains in silence for a long while, and I can tell that there’s something in his mind.
“What is it, Liam…?” I ask him and, when he turns to me, there’s a deep sorrow tainting the usually brightness of his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” he replies, faking a smile. “I lost someone too. And, you’re right… It sucks, but we gotta treasure the good moments.”
“Who was it…?” I ask him, my chest feeling heavy as I wonder if I should even be asking this question. Grief is one of these things most people like to keep in the shadows, and I know that Liam isn’t one to open up easily.
“It was my brother,” he tells me after a long pause, and I just let his words hang in the air between us. “He enlisted in the army when he just eighteen. He wanted to serve his country, you know? And he did - he served in Iraq for almost two years. But then… Well, then life happened, I guess. He got in a firefight in Ramadi, got shot and didn’t make it.”
“Jesus, Liam, I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” I tell him, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.
“I just wish I had been there with him, you know? Maybe I could’ve… I don’t know, things might have been different.”
“Liam…” I merely whisper, having no idea what to tell him. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe. I served in Iraq as well, you know? But we got shipped to different cities. I should’ve pushed for a reassignment, try and make it to the same platoon he was in… But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He whispers, that sad smile still on his lips.
I lost my father when I was just a teenager, and that was already hard enough for me - I have no idea how it’d be like to lose a brother and feel responsible for him at the same time. I don’t know if I’d be able to walk around with a smile on my face if I were carrying that much pain inside me...
“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve made my peace with it, just like you,” he says and, even though I notice the sorrow in his words, I believe him. “But this is part of why I want to keep my parents out of the spotlight. They’ve already been through enough. And, besides, I’m old enough to be the face of the Donovans and carry that responsibility.”
“Oh, Liam,” I whisper, looking into his and feeling my heart tightening up even more. I was so wrong about him - I’ve become so jaded with men that, even though I should’ve stopped this charade long ago, I kept going and going. And now here I am, falling for him.
Yes, I said it - I’m falling for Liam.
“I just don’t want to lose anyone else again,” he continues, gently squeezing my hand on his. “I don’t want to lose the ones I love.”
“You won’t,” I reply, lowering my voice until it becomes just a whisper. Even though I shouldn’t have said this, the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. This time, my heart trumped my brain.
Smiling, he places one hand on my face and leans in, his mouth looking for mine.
Closing my eyes, I surrender to his kiss.
Cara
I part my lips slightly, my tongue reaching for his and dancing in slow soft circles around it. His hands are on my waist, his long fingers firmly planted on my hips. We kiss in abandonment, my fingers running through his hair and disheveling it as my heart starts beating faster and faster. I let my hands fall down to the side of his face and I trace the hard lines of his jaw, the warmness on his skin calling to me.
“I want you. Right now,” he suddenly says, taking one hand to my neck and yanking on my hair, forcing my head back. I open my eyes, locking them on his, and I stop breathing for a whole second as he continues. “I never wanted anyone as bad as I want you, Cara.”
Each word that leaves his lips is like opium, travelling from my ears to my brain and drowning it in numbness. I try to think of an appropriate response, but all I can do is mouth an anxious “yes.” Leaning toward me, he pushes me back against the seat. My heart is drumming so hard I half-expect it to claw its way out of my chest anytime now.
“I want to fuck you,” he says, leaning in and whispering in my ear, his full lips brushing against my skin. My heart rises and falls at a hurried pace, my lungs working overtime as his eyes seem to devour me. Impatient with my silence, he yanks harder on my hair, his lips turning into a hard line. “I want it bad.”
“Do it, Liam… Do it,” I find myself saying, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
“I will,” he grins, the way his lips curl upward making him look even more beautiful. My mouth turns dry as his deep voice reaches me and, of course, as my mouth goes dry, my pussy becomes wetter than it has ever been. Maybe there’s some correlation there.
Still with one hand on my hair, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress, the tip of his fingers brushing against the naked skin above my right knee. I feel my skin prickling as his fingers hike up my leg, gently lifting the dress in the process. The closer he gets to my pussy, the wetter I become, a wildfire of desire spreading inside of me. I almost reach for his wrist and force his hand against my pussy, but I’m so entranced by his touch I simply sit still, the perfect victim to his teasing.
Unblinking, I stare into his eyes as his fingers close in on my groins, my insides burning with anticipation. But instead of simply going for it, he simply traces the contour of my thong with his index finger, going back and forth over both my groins without actually touching my pussy. Guided by unconscious desire, I find myself bucking my hips at him, aching to feel his hand on me. The moment I do it, he takes his hand out from under my dress and yanks on my hair again.
“Keep still,” he tells me, deviousness flickering in his eyes. I nod, pursing my lips and trying to ignore my own instincts. In an instant, his hand is under my dress again, his index finger gently running along the place where fabric and skin meet. He goes like that for what seems like an eternity, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute - it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re so wet your juices have soaked your underwear completely - and then he final
ly turns his wrist and flattens the palm of his hand over the front of my thong. I can’t help but gasp as I succumb to the pressure of his fingers on my pussy. I throw my head back and close my eyes, a sweet numbness embracing every single one of my nerve endings.
Liam starts rubbing my pussy softly, his fingers pressed tight over my wetness. A purred moan leaves my lips as he does it, the whole world fading away around me. With a flick of his fingers he pulls my thong to the side and brushes one fingertip over my folds, his touch making my brain almost explode.
“You’re so wet,” he says, his finger going back and forth over my drenched lips. “I love it.”
“Please,” I mutter, not even knowing what I’m asking for. I want him to slide his finger deep inside me, I want to feel his cock pushing past my inner lips and lodging itself inside my pussy - I want it all, and I want it right now.
Before I can even react, he parts my inner lips and slides his finger in, moving it inside me like a hook and pressing his fingertip in that sweet hidden spot. I moan again, this time louder, and he presses harder against my G-spot. I swear to God, I’m so delirious with desire I have no idea on how I’m managing to stand still.
He starts to move his finger in and out of my pussy, each time his hand moves the rhythm growing. Soon enough his finger is moving so fast I’m no longer moaning, I’m just trying to keep breathing through the avalanche of sensations that rages inside me. Letting go of my hair, he takes his other hand to between my thighs and presses his thumb over my clit, applying just enough pressure to force a moan out of my lips once more.
Working on my clit with his thumb, his index finger flying in and out of my pussy, he guides me to the edge and, with a simple word, throws me off of it.
“Come,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “Come for me.”
Just like that, I go off. I close my eyes again, breathing hard through my gritted teeth as all muscles in my body become tight and hard, uncontrollable tension pooling in every single fiber of my being. Like a bomb, pleasure explodes inside of me, my muscles letting go of all that tension as a forceful scream leaves my throat. My voice quivers as he stops moving his finger and just presses it hard against my G-spot, rubbing it there with the mastery of a man that knows women almost too well.