Lovestruck in Los Angeles

by Schurig, Rachel

  He nodded. “Well, yeah, that would be the ideal situation. But it doesn’t mean a baby would be some kind of disaster. Not one we made together.”

  I snorted. “My parents would kill me, Thomas.”

  I knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say. He stood, his hands balled into fists. “That’s what it all comes back to, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice angry. “What your parents think. Not what I think. Not our life together, or the love we have. What your parents would think.”

  “Thomas—”

  “That’s what you were sitting there worried about, wasn’t it?” He pointed at the bed. “That whole time we were waiting, you were thinking about them.”

  “So what if I was? What’s the big deal?”

  He laughed a little, the sound bitter. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd, Lizzie? That we were waiting to find out if we made a baby together—to find out if we were going to be parents!—and you were worried about what your family would think? Not about what I would think. Not about what it would mean for us as a couple. Just about how scared you are of them judging you.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Whatever, Lizzie,” he muttered, turning for the door.

  “Hey, don’t walk out on me right now. This is a big deal—”

  “It’s a big deal for us,” he said, turning back and gesturing at the space between us. “Not for your parents or your sisters or your brothers. It’s getting a little crowded in this relationship.”

  I stood, all the relief of a moment ago swiftly replaced by a seething anger. “You asshole,” I said, my voice shaking. “I haven’t seen my family in months. Months, Thomas. Because I chose you.” Tears were rushing to my eyes, and I brushed them aside, too angry to cry. “I gave up my whole life for you.”

  “Nice, Lizzie.” I was momentarily surprised that he didn’t come to me, didn’t apologize. He seemed every bit as angry as I was. “Nice thing to say. I thought we made a new life together.”

  “We did,” I snapped back. “But it’s like you said on New Year’s, isn’t it? I’m the only one making any sacrifices.”

  “And having my baby would have been a huge sacrifice?”

  “If you spent as much time at work as you do now, yeah, it would have been.”

  He took a step back, breathing heavily. I think we both realized that we’d gone a step too far.

  “I think we need a breather,” he said, rubbing his hand across his neck. “Before we say anything else we regret.”

  “Fine.” I grabbed my pillow. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

  “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

  I stared at him across the expanse of perfectly plush, spotless white carpet. “Are we going to fight about this, too?”

  “No. If you’re not preg—you must be sick, like we thought. You take the bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He turned to go, but I was still too angry and hurt to let it go. “You know,” I called after him, “this right here is the biggest reason we shouldn’t be having any children together right now, Thomas. In case you haven’t noticed while you’ve been off being a movie star, we’re not doing too hot.”

  He paused for a split second in the doorway, and I was sure he going to turn around to argue. Instead, his shoulders moved up a fraction of an inch, as if in a shrug, before he left me alone in the room.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Okay, talk to me.” Imogen placed a steaming mug in front of me before taking a seat next to me at the dining table. “What’s going on with you?”

  I rubbed at my bleary eyes, trying to focus. After our fight the night before, I had barely slept. I just kept going over it again and again in my mind. Had Thomas actually told me my family crowded our relationship? How could he think something like that, knowing what a hard time I was having with this estrangement? It made me furious all over again every time I thought about it. Add to that the fact that I was still feeling like death warmed over, and it had been a hell of a night. I hadn’t drifted off until after I heard Thomas leaving for work. I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep before Imogen had inadvertently woken me by sticking her head in my room to check on me.

  “Yoohoo,” Imogen called now, waving her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Lizzie.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, picking up the mug of tea she’d made me after I’d gotten up. “Thanks for the tea.”

  “So what’s wrong?” She peered at me over her own mug, her chocolate brown eyes concerned. “Are you homesick or something?”

  I shook my head. “Thomas and I are fighting.”

  Her mouth dropped into a perfect little “o.” “What?”

  I waved my hands, trying to downplay it, but the truth was saying the words out loud made me feel a million times worse. Like our problems were official now or something. “It’s normal, I’m sure.”

  Imogen shook her head. “But…but…you guys always seem so perfect together.”

  I searched her face and found that she looked absolutely crushed. “It’s okay, Immy,” I said quickly. “We’re fine, really.”

  She shook her head a little. “I just…you guys are, like, the best couple. If you broke up…I think I would lose my faith in love, or something.”

  “We’re not breaking up,” I said firmly. “We’re just in a rough patch.”

  Her eyes were wide across the table. “But what if the rough patch turns into something worse?”

  “Imogen, I’m the one who’s fighting with my boyfriend, you know. You could try to be a little supportive.”

  “Of course, of course,” she said quickly. She wiped at her eyes. God. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about my relationship affecting anyone else quite this much. Thankfully, Imogen took a sip of tea, seeming to pull herself together. “Sorry, Lizzie. Let’s talk about it. What happened?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do you promise to remember that we’re real people and not characters out of Hello magazine?”

  She nodded eagerly. “I promise.”

  So I told her all about it, getting worked up all over again. “I just can’t believe he would throw that in my face. Like, does he really not know how hard this has been for me? How much I’ve given up to make our relationship work?”

  She patted my hand. “I’m sure he does know. He loves you, Lizzie. You can’t doubt that.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be cool with him acting like this.”

  “Well, try to think about it from his view,” she said in that direct way of hers. “Here he was, all excited, thinking about having a baby with the girl he loves. And then he finds out all you were worried about was how your family would react.”

  My stomach twisted at her words. I knew she was right, I knew that would have been a blow to anyone. I pictured his crestfallen face. “I know. I know that would suck to hear. But I was panicking. Things are already so bad with my family that I can’t handle it being any worse right now.”

  “I bet he feels just as bad as you do,” she said. “I really do. He’s probably gutted at the idea of what he said to you about your family.”

  “I don’t want him to be gutted.” I stared into my milky tea. “I just want us to be happy.”

  “You will be,” she said. “Like you said, this is just a rough patch. It’s hard for both of you, being in a new place. And he’s so stressed out about the movie not going well—”

  “Wait, what? What do you mean the movie’s not going well?”

  “Hasn’t he told you? Heidi was talking about it quite a bit last week—they’re way behind on the schedule and exceeding the budget already. The studio is getting upset.”

  It was my turn to look shocked. “He hasn’t said a word.”

  She wrapped her hands around her mug, watching me closely. “You know what I think, Lizzie? I think the two of you aren’t communicating very well.”

  Suddenly I felt tears well up in my eyes. “You’re right.” I sniffled, re
aching for a tissue as Imogen looked on, clearly alarmed. “We’re not communicating. And I miss him so much. We went through so much to get to this point, Immy, you have no idea. We can’t just throw it away.”

  “Then don’t.” She handed me another tissue. “Go upstairs and get cleaned up so you’re feeling better when he gets back. Talk to him.”

  I nodded, giving her a watery smile. “I think I will.”

  She slumped back in her seat, suddenly relieved. “Oh, thank God,” she muttered, wiping at her brow. “That’s a lot of pressure, you know? Trying to council the most popular celebrity couple in the world.”

  I laughed in spite of my swollen eyes and stuffy nose. “Oh, Imogen. You’re really ridiculous sometimes, you know that, right?”

  She nodded, smiling. “I do, yes.”

  ***

  Imogen popped her head into my room before she left the office for the day. “How are you? Feeling any better?”

  I looked up from where I was resting with a book in my lap. “I haven’t puked since yesterday. That’s got to be a plus, right?”

  She gave me a thumbs up. “I’m heading home for the night, unless you want company.”

  “No, thanks. I might try to sleep.”

  “You should. You look awful.”

  I stuck out my tongue. “Thanks, Imogen.”

  “Communicate,” she called over her shoulder as she headed down the stairs. “Don’t forget!”

  I tried to concentrate on my book, but I wasn’t having much luck. I was so tired and mixed up about everything, it was hard to keep the characters and plot straight in my head.

  The next thing I knew, the light in my room had changed drastically. I opened my eyes with difficulty, seeing a setting sun out over the ocean. I must have slept for hours. I stretched, realizing that I actually felt hungry for the first time in days. Deciding I could probably keep down at least a bowl of cereal, I pulled on my robe and headed down to the kitchen.

  “Hello.”

  I jumped about a foot in the air and gasped, my hand over my chest. “Thomas! You scared me!”

  He was off the bar stool in the blink of an eye, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, trying to slow the beating of my heart. “I just wasn’t expecting you yet. I was sleeping.”

  “No,” he said, pulling back to look into my face. “I mean I’m sorry for last night.”

  I nodded, tears threatening all over again. “Me too. I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m the one who was totally insensitive. Of course you were nervous about the possibility of a baby. It was terrible of me to say that about your family.” He cupped my face with his hands. “Please don’t ever believe that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done so that we could be together. Christ, you left home for

  me—”

  “But that doesn’t mean that I should throw that in your face every time we have a fight. I made the choice to leave home. I made that choice for a lot of reasons, and I’m responsible for it. I’m happy for it. It was the right choice, and I would make it all over again.”

  He pulled me close again, kissing the top of my head. “I love you so much. I hate when we fight. I’ve felt sick all day.”

  “Me too.” I squeezed him tight, thinking about Imogen’s words from earlier. “Imogen thinks we need to communicate more.”

  I could practically feel him roll his eyes though I couldn’t see his face. “She does, huh?”

  I nodded against his chest. “Yup. And I think she’s right. We’re not talking enough. I know you’re busy with work—”

  He sighed. “That’s not an excuse. Come on, let’s make some dinner and we can have a nice long chat.”

  I laughed as he pulled away. “You say nice long chat like it’s a trip to the guillotine.”

  He shot me that amused grin I loved so much. “What? I’m thrilled to sit down and talk about all my feelings. It’s the only thing I could imagine doing to make up after a fight.” His eyes darted down to my legs, bare below my robe, and his eyebrows rose. “Really.”

  I laughed and took his hand. “I’m sick and disgusting, Thomas.”

  “You may be sick, but you’re never disgusting.”

  We made dinner together. We were mostly silent as we worked, chopping vegetables and boiling water for pasta. I was definitely feeling better about us than I had earlier, but there was still a knot in my stomach that wouldn’t go away. Imogen’s news that things weren’t going well with the movie had shocked me almost as much as my fight with Thomas. I was the one he was supposed to be coming to with stuff like that. What did it say about our relationship when he didn’t even want to talk to me when things got rough?

  We took our plates of pasta out to the deck to eat on our teak table and chairs. I still wasn’t used to the view of the ocean, to the fact that all of this was ours, at least for now. I wondered if it was different for people who lived here full time, for people who knew this would be their view for as long as they owned the house. Did it get old to them? I couldn’t imagine that.

  “Storm’s coming in,” Thomas said, pointing out at some gray clouds on the horizon. He poured us each a glass of ice water before sitting. “So.” He looked at me across the table. “How was your day?”

  “Shitty. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  His forehead creased in concern. “I really am sorry.”

  “We both said sorry.” I touched his hand lightly. “You don’t need to apologize any more than I do.”

  He nodded, chewing his pasta.

  “How about you?” I asked pointedly. “How was your day?”

  “About average.”

  Was I imagining a tightening around his mouth when he talked?

  “Imogen said things weren’t going well with the film.”

  His head snapped up. “She said that?”

  I nodded. “I assume Heidi told her. Why haven’t I heard anything about this?”

  He seemed to crumble in on himself a little. “I think I was hoping if I didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t feel real.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He released a huge breath of air. “It’s harder than I thought it would be, Lizzie. Making a movie in Hollywood. Having such a large part—it feels like a lot of stuff relies on me, you know? I can’t get a scene right and suddenly the studio is out a boatload of money for the day. That’s on me.”

  “You’ve had lead roles before.”

  “It’s different.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “In Hostile, we didn’t know anything was going to come of it. There wasn’t any pressure to perform because we didn’t have high expectations.”

  “And now the expectations are higher?”

  He snorted. “Jenner Collins hasn’t made a flop yet. What if this is the one?”

  “It wont be.” My voice was firm, but I wasn’t trying to appease him. I believed in his talent one hundred percent. “You’re fantastic, Thomas. You really are.”

  He looked away. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

  He seemed so dejected, sitting there across from me, that it made my stomach hurt a little bit. Thomas was usually so confident, so easy going. He wasn’t arrogant, not in the slightest, but he also didn’t let insecurities get to him. Unflappable—that’s the way I would have described him.

  I got up from my seat, abandoning my plate of pasta, and went around the table to kneel in front of him. “Thomas, come on. They wouldn’t have picked you if they didn’t believe in you.”

  “What if they change their mind?”

  His eyes were wide and scared, and it suddenly hit me that Thomas wasn’t just insecure—he was downright terrified. I climbed into his lap without thinking. All I knew was that if he was scared I wanted to be close to him. “They will not change their mind, Thomas Harper. Tell me something—do you go into work every day and do your best work?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I think I do.”
/>
  “Well, that’s all there is to it then, isn’t it? Your best is far more than enough. I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  He pulled me in close, squeezing me tight, and I was reminded of the day we waited together for the first reviews of Hostile to come out. He’d held me like this then, too. Like I was something he could hold on to in order to keep the fear away. “It’s crazy, Lizzie,” he said against my chest, his voice soft. “Working out here. I’m worrying about things that I never gave a damn about before.”

  “Like what?”

  He laughed derisively. “Like how much money I make. Or how I don’t have any awards under my belt. Or a fancy L.A. agent. I even caught myself looking at my abs in the mirror the other day, wondering how I’ll ever make it out here without a six pack.”

  My heart constricted for him. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “Because I know it’s stupid! I’ve been hearing this shit from actors since I first started, and I always thought they were such whining little babies. Do you have any idea how many times Charlie and I made fun of people like Jackson Coles?”

  I smiled in spite of the situation. “I can guess.”

  “Yeah, well, who was I to talk? Put me in a room full of sun-kissed Hollywood stars and look at how quickly I start acting just like them.”

  “Okay, let’s get something straight,” I said, pulling on his shoulders until he was facing me. “You are not just like them. You may be having some issues with your confidence right now—which, by the way, is totally normal considering the upheaval in your life lately—but that does not mean you are anything like Jackson Coles. Believe me, Thomas. I know you.”

  He shook his head, his eyes on the water. “It feels like I’m changing.”

  I thought such a confession would cause me some fear, that I, too, might worry that he could change, so I was surprised to find not even the slightest prickle of worry. “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re not. I promise you. You are still the exact same person that I’ve been crazy about since the day I met you. You are stronger than these worries and fears. You are.”

  He finally turned back to face me. “Do you really think that?”