Not a chance, I thought, grabbing a package of napkins from the shelf. Leaving him had been the biggest mistake of my life. I had no intentions of ever doing something so stupid again.
We paid for our loot and headed back out to the car. Thomas insisted on driving everywhere with the top rolled down. He complained bitterly about driving on the wrong side of the road, but still refused to let me drive. I didn’t really mind—sitting next to him in leather-seated comfort while the wind mussed his normally neat brown hair was just fine by me. He looked good in L.A., I realized. He was dressed that day in long plaid board shorts and a tight-fitting blue t-shirt. Thomas did the whole casual- but-together look better than anyone I knew, and that look definitely worked out here in the sunshine.
He drove us to Point Dume, a beach he had heard about from the director of the movie. It was nearly deserted, and I realized that even though Malibu felt like a fantasy to me, it was still a place where most people had to go to work on a weekday just like the rest of the world.
I carried the beach towels we had snagged from the hotel while Thomas lugged the shopping bags. We found a flat spot to spread out the towels, and Thomas popped open the cheap sparkling wine.
“We don’t have glasses.” I pointed at the wine. “So we can’t toast.”
“Screw that,” he said, holding the bottle high. “To our new adventure in Los Angeles. And to us.”
“To us,” I echoed, before rising up on my knees to kiss him. He took a sip of the wine and passed it to me.
“There,” he said, while I drank. “That totally counts as a toast.”
“Agreed. We are super classy.”
We ate chicken salad on still-warm bread, and the ocean formed a perfect backdrop to our picnic. “It’s crazy,” I muttered. “How did we get here?”
Thomas shook his head. “I keep asking myself that same question. It seems like yesterday I was running to get on the tube so I wouldn’t miss my audition for some shitty, two-line part.”
“It seems like yesterday that I was sitting alone in my bedroom in Detroit, depressed as hell, wondering why I had ever gone home.”
His face tightened a little, so I reached out to take his hand. I shouldn’t have brought it up—I didn’t like thinking about that time any better than he did. “But we’re here now,” I reminded him. “Whether it feels real or not. We’re going to be living here in just a few weeks.”
We finished eating and stretched out on the towels, my head on Thomas’s chest. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he said, his fingers idly playing with my hair. “Sarra called me this morning while I was on my way to that meeting.”
“She did?” A strange rush of homesickness for London passed over me, even though we’d only been away for a few days.
“Yeah. She said it was pissing down there. Apparently it hasn’t stopped raining since we left.”
I laughed. “Surprise, surprise. Did you tell her what it was like out here?”
“Of course.” His voice sounded gleeful. “She called me an evil tosser.”
“Poor Sarra.” I sighed in spite of the sunlight. “I’m going to miss them.”
“We’ll be back for the holidays. It’s only a few weeks, really.”
I breathed through my nose, taking in the briny scent of the ocean, trying to focus on the positive aspects of that fact so I wouldn’t think about the other implications. I didn’t fool him, though.
“Unless, of course, you change your mind and decide to stay in the States for Christmas.”
He was trying to be vague, but we both knew exactly what he meant when he said “the States.” He was talking about Michigan. My parents’ house.
“I’m not going to show up somewhere we aren’t welcome,” I said, my voice tight.
“Your mother invited us.”
“Over the objections of my father. He hasn’t talked to me in months, Thomas. I’m not going to show up there in the hopes that he might forget about it in a swelling of Christmas spirit.”
Thomas sighed, running his fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
“You aren’t the one who should apologize.”
“He’s not speaking to you because of me.”
I shook my head against his chest, feeling tears threaten. I was sick of crying about this. It felt like I had done little else since I made the decision to leave home in August. “It’s because of me. Because I defied him.”
“Yeah, defied him to come back to London to be with me.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows so I could see him. “Are you under the impression I came back to London for you? Oh, Thomas, I’m sorry. The truth is, I just couldn’t live without Smarties and Aero bars.”
“They are far superior to American candy,” he said seriously, then his face softened. “I mean it. I hate that things have to be so rough with your family because of our relationship.”
“And I was serious when I said it wasn’t your fault. If we had tried to keep doing the long-distance thing, I would still have problems with my family, because I wasn’t willing to go along with their plans for me.”
I wasn’t just saying it to appease him. I came from a loud, bossy, always-in-each-other’s-business kind of family. My parents had planned out my future long before I was old enough to have any dreams of my own. I was supposed to become a teacher, just like my sisters, so I could have a stable job with good benefits. For my hard-working, immigrant father, the promise of a stable, middle-class life was like the holy grail. All five of my siblings—Carlos, Maria, Laura, and the twins, Matias and Samuel—had gone along with those plans, starting careers in teaching and skilled trades, buying homes in the same town where we had grown up, the girls marrying into other Mexican families we had known our whole lives.
When I told them I wanted to go to London to do a postgraduate program, they had been shocked and disbelieving. And that was nothing compared to their reaction when, at the end of that program, I told them I was giving up my teaching certificate to go back to London and be with Thomas.
Neither my father nor my oldest sister, Maria, had talked to me since.
“So long as I wasn’t going to become a teacher like my sisters and live in that house until I got married, they weren’t going to be happy. You just gave me the incentive to actually go for what I wanted. I’m not going to fault you for that—it was a gift.”
“I love you, Lizzie,” he said, his voice suddenly intense. “You know that, right?”
I looked down into his familiar green eyes. “Of course I do.”
“I just hope it’s worth it, you know? I know what you gave up, leaving home. And I know it was asking a lot, for you to leave London after all that to come out here with me. I just…I don’t ever want you to have a reason to regret it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Um, excuse me, did you see that house? Do you see this beach?” I gestured around at the stunning landscape. “You hardly asked a lot of me, coming out here to slum it up in all of this.”
He grabbed my hand. “You know what I mean, Lizzie.”
I leaned down so our lips were only an inch apart. “I made my choice a long time ago. I want to be where you are. That’s all there is to it.”
His mouth turned up into a smile for the briefest moment before my lips met his. Lying there with him, the sun hot on our backs, the sounds of waves crashing feet away from us, I forgot about the knot that had formed in my stomach when he mentioned Christmas. I missed my family, of course I did. My mother had been nothing but supportive since I made my decision, and my brother Sam, sister Laura, and cousin Sofia also took my side. I wanted to see them so bad it felt like a physical ache sometimes. But I refused to give up Thomas or our life together to go home and grovel for my dad to let me back in the house.
I spent a long time being scared of what my family would think about my choices. I couldn’t say that had completely gone away. Maybe it never would. But I was done letting that fear determine how I lived my life. I loved Thomas, and we were goi
ng to be together. That’s really all there was to it.
Chapter Two
Returning to London was a shock to the system. We weren’t even gone for a week, but it felt longer, almost like we’d been in a completely different world. The jet lag didn’t help. I headed out to work a full half hour late the first day after getting back, feeling thankful that I’d spent the night at Thomas’s flat in Bayswater. The tube ride over to Heidi’s office was much easier to make from there than it was from my flat in the East End.
Okay, it wasn’t technically my flat. I was subletting from our friend Charlie, who was currently living in New York with Callie. I was grateful for the apartment, as I would never have been able to afford a place on my own, and moving in with Thomas in London would have made the situation with my parents even worse. But I missed my friends desperately. Callie and I had come to London together as part of the postgraduate program. We’d shared a wonderful little place together in Kentish Town, going to class, hanging out with Thomas’s friends, and enjoying the city together. It still didn't feel right to be there without her.
Before I climbed down the stairs to the tube, I paused by a bench to connect to email on my phone. It would give me something to read on the train, but I knew from experience that my service would cut out once I went below street level. I waited while the email loaded, knowing I was only making myself later, but reminding myself that Heidi knew we just got back from L.A. and wouldn’t be expecting me to be too early.
Once the email loaded, I joined the mass of humanity spilling down the steps toward the tube. I’d never gotten used to the crowds in London, to the sheer mass of people that lived and worked and visited the city every single day. I was born and raised in a small suburb of Detroit, about as far away from London as you could get. When Callie and I had first moved here, I’d had a few scary moments of regret. I was sure there was no way I was going to be able to maneuver the crowds, the tubes, the bus schedules. It was all so foreign to me. I wondered if maybe my parents had been right about moving being a mistake. But, somehow, I’d gotten the hang of everything. And along the way, I fell in love with the city.
I loved it for its history, for the way quaint, ancient buildings mingled seamlessly with modern construction. I loved that you could stroll through parks and palaces in the morning and scurry through the busy, frantic streets of the City in the afternoon, mingling with tourists and bankers alike. I loved the restaurants, the museums, the theaters. I loved walking along the Thames, loved catching sight of Big Ben or the London Eye unexpectedly from across Westminster. I loved shopping at Foyles, my favorite bookstore. Loved zipping around town on a double decker bus—though in actuality no one really zipped anywhere in London traffic.
Mostly, I loved the little family I had formed there. Thomas had introduced me to Charlie, his best friend, early in our relationship. Charlie’s sister, Sarra, her boyfriend, Mark, her college roommate Meghan, and Meghan’s boyfriend, Carter, rounded out our little group. We met up in pubs around the city, played trivia together every Tuesday, ate brunch at the same restaurant every Sunday morning. When I had gone back to Detroit, I’d missed them nearly as much as I missed Thomas.
My train was right on time, and I was lucky enough to find a seat in the early morning rush of commuters. I pulled out my phone and smiled to see I’d received emails from both Sofie and Callie.
I read Sofie’s first, hoping that if there was any unpleasant mention of my father, Callie’s letter would take my mind off of it. I needn’t have worried. She filled me in on several matters of family gossip before bemoaning the fact that I got to spend a few days in sunny California. It would be starting to get cold at home. Sofie always hated the cold.
Callie’s email was short and to the point. She and Charlie were going to be back in London for a week before Thomas and I left for L.A. again. My excitement at this news was so great that I smiled broadly at several strangers on the underground before I remembered where I was.
Callie and Charlie were coming home! I hadn’t been expecting that at all. Charlie was finding some success with his photography in New York, and Callie had gotten a job in the Manhattan offices of her father’s company. She’d always had money, so I knew she wasn’t hurting, but even so, a transatlantic flight was never cheap.
Thomas and I had been hoping to arrange our own schedule to meet up with them in New York on our way to L.A. But now I knew I’d get to see my best friend in a mere matter of weeks, whether Thomas could make arrangements or not.
We would need to throw a party, I decided. Thomas and I had been planning on keeping our last few weeks in London really low key, just enjoying our friends and the city the way we always did. But Callie and Charlie’s visit certainly called for a bit more flair. Besides, Thomas had been so busy with the explosion of his career that he hadn’t really had time to pause to celebrate everything. What better time than the eve of our temporary move to Tinsel Town? I spent the rest of the tube ride making party planning lists in the memo app on my phone. I was so engrossed I nearly missed my stop and had to squeeze out the sliding doors just before they closed.
Back above ground my paced quickened, the tired haze of my jet lag fading under the excitement of my party plans. This was going to be fantastic. We could invite Thomas’s family, all of our friends here in London. A last hurrah before we headed back across the ocean.
Heidi Greenblatt, Thomas’s long-time agent, kept a small office in the West End. It was on one of my favorite blocks in the neighborhood, tree- lined with just the right amount of foot traffic. Bustling without feeling overcrowded. And there was a cafe right on the corner that made the best scones I’d ever tasted. Even though I was late, I slipped inside to pick up a latte, knowing I was going to need caffeine if I wanted to keep the jet lag at bay while I worked.
Five minutes later, I stepped off the elevator and slipped through the glass-fronted door of the office, relieved to see Heidi’s door closed at the back of the space.
“Hiya, Lizzie,” Imogen called out from the fax machine. “How was L.A.?”
She checked over her shoulder, probably also making sure that Heidi’s door was in fact closed, before abandoning the fax to come over and give me a hug. She sighed, peering into my face. “You’re tan. I’m so jealous.”
“You’re going to be there in less than a month,” I reminded her. “You’ll have plenty of chances to get tan yourself.”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes in a huff. “Yeah, right. I’m cursed with a totally British complexion. I’ll burn for sure. Won’t that be attractive? A giant red tomato stumbling around Los Angeles.”
I shoved her shoulder a little. “You’ll look as lovely there as you do here.”
It was true; Imogen was exactly how you would picture an English rose—soft pale complexion; delicate frame; gorgeous, thick brown hair that fell in a straight wave down her back. Rarely was I so conscious of my Latina curves than when I stood next to Imogen. She made me feel giant and awkward, though I was pretty much a shortie myself.
“Never mind my ability to tan,” she said, following me over to my desk as I pulled off my scarf. “Tell me about the house! Did you pick one?”
I grinned at her, crossing my fingers that she liked the beach. “We found the most amazing place—”
“It’s the one in Malibu isn’t it?” She squealed, clasping her hands in front of her face. “I knew it! As soon as I saw the fact sheets the studio sent over, I knew you’d pick that one!”
“You saw pictures?”
She nodded. “I nearly went mad at the sight of them. That view.” She sighed dreamily. “God, Lizzie, you are so lucky.”
I smiled at her, though I felt a little uncomfortable. Imogen was a wonderful girl and had become a good friend since I’d started working for her, but I sometimes forgot how fairytale obsessed she was.
After graduating from Cambridge, just like her parents had wanted, she turned around and broke their heart by interning at Heidi’s office. She w
as twenty-two, and they thought she should be getting a proper job with a bank in the City. But Imogen had stars in her eyes and was determined to work in the entertainment industry. She’d been brought into the office right before me, just after Thomas hit it so big, and it was obvious she was star-struck by him. I sometimes got the feeling she might actually have a bit of a crush on him, but for the most part she seemed totally enamored with his lifestyle—or what she assumed his lifestyle must be. Likewise, she thought I was living some Cinderella kind of life as his girlfriend. She’d told me how lucky I was more times than I could count.
“So many stars live in Malibu,” she went on. “So many. God, Lizzie, you could be neighbors with Julia Roberts. Can you even imagine? And I’ll be working right there!”
“It should be fantastic—” I started to say, but Heidi came rushing out of her office.
“Imogen, did you send that fax for me because I really need—” She caught sight of me and stopped mid-sentence. “Lizzie! How lovely to see you. I trust you had a good flight?”
“We did,” I said, glancing guiltily at the clock behind her head. “A bit jet lagged, I’m afraid.”
She waved away my excuse. “Please, don’t worry about it.”
She came and perched on my desk. “So, everything went well, I take it?”
I nodded. “We picked a house, and Thomas said all of his meetings went well.”
She nodded, having heard all of this, I was sure, from her counterpart in the West Coast office. “Wonderful,” she said briskly. “Now, if you’re sure you’re feeling quite up to it, there is a bit to be getting on with around here.”
“Of course.” I tried my best not to grimace. It was so obvious that Heidi treated me quite differently than she treated Imogen. Or any of the other employees in the agency. It wasn’t totally unexpected—her job depended on Thomas being happy with her, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk that by being a bitch to his girlfriend. But I wished, not for the first time, that she could find a way to treat me the same as anyone else.
Lovestruck in Los Angeles Page 2