There was an arrangement of pink roses set in a cut glass vase that certainly hadn’t been there when I got home. With a shaking hand, I reached out and took the card.
I’m so proud of you, Lizzie. You inspire me with your dedication and hard work. All my love, Thomas.
I stared at the card for a long time, not knowing how to feel. Finally, I placed it back in the vase and turned for the stairs, leaving the flowers behind.
***
For the second time since we’d moved to Los Angeles, Thomas and I slept in different beds. Of course, we’d spent nights apart throughout our relationship. We’d always had separate apartments in London, though we still managed to spend a majority of the nights each week in the same place. And there’d been the terrible time when I was back in Detroit, sleeping alone every night, literally sick with the pain of missing him.
But there had never been a time when we’d been in the same home but different beds. I barely slept the entire night, the California king seeming impossibly large without him.
I was feeling bad for a lot of the things I had said to him. Bad that he had bought me flowers and I’d attacked him before he could give them to me. Bad that he had gone to bed without even saying goodnight to me.
But every time I thought of that meeting, I felt the mortification rush through me all over again. Nothing I had told him had been untrue—I was sick of people looking at me like I was some freeloading gold digger. I was scared I would never get the chance to make a name or a career for myself if we were together.
I was scared, period. I hated the distance between us, hated feeling angry at the person I loved more than anyone else in the world.
There was a moment last year, after I went back to Detroit, when it seemed like Thomas and I wouldn’t make it. The pain of being so far apart, the difficulty with his career, the pressure from my family—all of it had piled up on us until I was sure we were over. It was only my decision to come back to London that had brought us through.
For the first time since I made that choice, I wondered if we weren’t actually meant to end up together. It made me feel dizzy, lying there in bed, to think that this might not last. Last time I had crossed an ocean to save our relationship—what else could I give now?
Then I realized that Thomas was leaving the following day to shoot on location, and I felt like I was going to throw up. He was leaving, and we were sleeping in separate beds. I sat, and looked out at the moon shining through the night clouds, debating whether or not to go down to the guest room and find him.
Before I could make up my mind, there was a creak on the stairs, and then he was there, his outline filling the door. He saw me sitting up in bed and paused. “You’re awake.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
He stood there for a long moment while I tried to make myself apologize, make myself take it all back. But I couldn’t take it back—I meant it, all of it. Finally, I lay down again, pulling the blankets back from his side of the bed, a silent invitation for him to join me, fight or not.
I closed my eyes when I felt the bed dip on his side, the mattress creak softly. Then his arms were around me, pulling my back to his chest. We lay like that in silence for a long time.
“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he finally murmured, and I realized that he, too, was probably struggling with the desire to take back all that had been said. His apology was what he felt he could say without taking back the things he had meant.
“I’m sorry your last night at home wasn’t a nice one.” I said.
His arms squeezed tighter for a moment. “I’ll be gone for four days. I’m going to try to get out of work earlier a few nights when I get back. We should…talk. Spend time together.”
I nodded against his chest, staring out at our quiet, dark bedroom.
We didn’t make up that night, didn’t take it all back or kiss the pain away. I didn’t tell him how scared I felt, how unsure I was starting to feel about our future. We didn’t make love or come to any conclusions. But Thomas did hold me all night. And I did, finally, fall asleep in his arms.
Chapter Twenty
Thomas woke up before I did the next morning. I didn’t realize he was out of the room until I smelled the scent of coffee coming from downstairs. I stretched in bed, the memory of everything that had happened the day before washing over me. I found I could remember the meeting without my face flaming in embarrassment. That was an improvement.
I didn’t want to have to say goodbye to Thomas, didn’t want to think about how quiet and empty the massive house would be without him. But I didn’t want him to go without saying goodbye, either. So I pulled on my robe and joined him in the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said, watching me walk down the stairs toward him.
“Morning.”
“Didn’t mean to wake you.”
I went to the cupboard for a mug. “It’s okay. I wanted to see you off.”
I poured my coffee, aware of his eyes on me. “It’s only for a few days, Lizzie.”
I turned to him and attempted to smile. “I know.”
I joined him at the breakfast bar, sipping my coffee while he ate a buttered slice of toast.
“There’s something we should probably talk about before I go.”
There was something in his voice that sent a little shiver through me. Like he was afraid, too. “What do we need to talk about?”
He sighed, rubbing his hand across his neck. “Look, Lizzie, I didn’t want to tell you like this. Not after yesterday. But I’m afraid you’ll hear about it when Heidi gets here—”
“What?”
He looked up at me, his eyes tired and weary. “I was offered a role in another movie. The same studio. It’s… well, a pretty big deal. Summer blockbuster. Major contract.”
I swallowed. “And it shoots here?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“Next month. The lead just dropped out, and they don’t want to delay shooting.”
Tears came to my eyes. We were supposed to go home next month. That promise had been my lifeline the last few weeks. “How long?” I whispered.
“Probably four more months.”
I looked down. I couldn’t believe this. With everything else happening, everything putting pressure on us, the idea of being back home, in Thomas’s normal, cozy flat, with our friends, had been the only thing getting me through. I wasn’t sure if I could handle four more months of this. Of him never being home. Of being here alone, without any friends or family. Of fighting.
“I haven’t decided anything,” he said. “It’s not just my decision, Lizzie. I want us to talk about this.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. He would have to do what was best for his career, wouldn’t he? It was the thing I had always promised him, that his career should come first.
“Damn it, this is why I didn’t want to tell you now.”
“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing the tears from my eyes. “I’m glad you told me, rather than risk me hearing it at work from Heidi. Thank you.”
He didn’t respond, just watched my face. “You know I love you, right?”
I managed a small smile. “Of course. I love you too.”
I hugged him at the door, hating the sight of his duffle bag at our feet. He kissed me softly, and I was glad. Fight or not, I didn’t want him traveling away from me without a last kiss. Before he left, he looked down at me, his eyes searching my own. He looked sad. And more than a little afraid.
“I’ll see you in a few days.”
I nodded. “Be safe.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone in the giant, empty house.
Heidi and Imogen were working in the city that day with our new agency partner’s West Coast team. I was supposed to join them. Thomas was barely gone for five minutes before I realized I couldn’t bear to face it. I sent a quick text to Heidi, letting her know that I was feeling sick again and couldn’t make it.
&nbs
p; It wasn’t really a lie. I did feel sick to my stomach. But there was no way I could stay in that house all morning by myself.
After a quick shower I changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and pulled my wet hair up into a ponytail. I filled a travel mug with more coffee, slipped my kindle into my purse, and headed down to the garage.
I drove to the beach on Point Dume where Thomas and I had enjoyed our first lunch in Malibu, all those months ago. It was deserted on a Thursday morning, a woman walking her dog a quarter mile down the only company.
I stretched out in the sand, thinking I would read for a while and get my mind off things. Instead, I stared at the water, wondering what I could possibly do now.
I didn’t want to stay in L.A. Not for another four months, that was for sure. And I honestly wasn’t sure Thomas and I would survive it if I did stay. Would it be more of the same? More fighting? More distance? But what would happen if I left? And where would I go? To London, without him? Back to Detroit?
I shuddered, thinking about it. Part of me wanted nothing more than to be back in my parent’s house, where I could talk to my mom and have her help me figure it all out. But it would be too much like admitting defeat, going back there without Thomas. My dad had said about a dozen words to me since I left in August. Could I expect that to change at all, if I showed up on their doorstep?
And would it be any better for my relationship with Thomas for us to be apart? It hadn’t worked out so good for us the last time.
Maybe I can handle four more months, I thought morosely. Yes, since we had come to L.A. things had changed for us. Thomas was under a lot of pressure, which was understandable. More concerning for me was the way he buttoned up about it, not letting me in. His long hours were another problem. He’d worked hard in London, but at least there I’d had more friends. I had never felt alone or abandoned when he was at work.
Maybe you’re just being a baby, I thought. So your boyfriend isn’t around. Take some control of the situation.
But I had tried to do just that by focusing on my book, and look at how that turned out.
Maybe the problems were bigger than our location. Whether we were in L.A. or London, I was still going to be the girl who only got ahead because of her famous boyfriend. Could I handle a lifetime of feeling judged? If I ever got a book deal, would I be able to enjoy it, or would I always wonder, deep inside, if I had earned it on my own?
My phone rang, startling me from my depressing thoughts. I pulled it from my purse, barely looking at the screen. The phone was half way to my ear before I realized that it was a Detroit number on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Lizzie, it’s Maria.”
I knew something was wrong before she even stopped speaking. There was no way Maria would call me for anything other than an emergency, not after all this time. And there was something there, in her voice, some absence of the usual conviction and self-assurance she usually greeted the world with. She sounded almost…vulnerable.
Something was definitely, definitely wrong.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
There was a pause before she answered, just long enough for my dad’s face to flash into my mind. Oh, God. He worked too hard, had since he was way too young. And he ate so much fried food. Was it his heart? Please, God, not his heart.
“Mama.”
I frooze, the blood in my veins turning to ice. “No.”
Maria was still talking, but I couldn’t take it in. Something about Mama passing out in the kitchen. They thought it might be a stroke.
No.
“Is she…is she stable?” I asked, my voice sounding strange in my own ears.
I heard a strange sound on the other end of the phone. It took me a minute to realize what it was. Maria was sobbing.
“She’s critical, Lizzie.”
A wave of horror rushed up inside me, threatening to take me over. This couldn’t be happening. It could not. Maria was still crying on the other end of the phone, and I felt frozen. I should be doing something, should be springing to action, but the fear and the shock had a hold of me.
“Come home, Lizzie,” Maria said, the pleading in her voice breaking through the wall I felt holding me back. “Please come home.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I stood, looking around the empty beach for someone, something to help me, my mind running with the things I needed to do. Buy a ticket. Get to the airport. Find Thomas.
“Hurry,” Maria whispered. “Please hurry, Lizzie.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Thomas wasn’t answering his phone. “Pick up, pick up,” I muttered, tapping my fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. “Come on, Thomas.”
Once again, the call went to his voicemail. I cursed, tossing the phone aside. I knew he was probably in the middle of the shoot, away from his phone, or else the reception was bad out on location, but the logic of it didn’t change the annoyance I felt. I needed to get ahold of him, needed to talk to him before I got on the plane. Why couldn’t someone just answer the damn phone?
It rang on the seat next to me, making me jump. I fumbled for it, praying it would be him. “Thomas?” I yelped, when I finally got it to my ear.
“It’s Sofie.”
The tears that I’d been too scared and shocked to cry before suddenly welled in my eyes. “Sof.”
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, her voice absolutely steady. “You need to have faith.”
“Are you at the hospital?”
“I am. Everyone is here, sweetie. She has so many prayers right now, so much good energy heading her way.”
I closed my eyes briefly, relieved that they were all together. I wanted to be there with them so badly it felt like a knife in my gut.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m driving to the airport.”
“You’re driving? You shouldn’t be driving, Lizzie. You’ve had a shock.”
“I was alone when I found out. I called a cab and they said it would be an hour. I couldn’t wait that long.”
“Do you have a ticket?”
“Yeah. My flight leaves in an hour and a half.”
“Okay. Just take deep breathes, okay? And drive careful.”
“I will.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, needing to dispel some nervous energy.
“What about Thomas?”
“I can’t find him.” I couldn’t keep the bite out of my voice. “He’s working on location and no one is answering his phone.”
“Call Heidi. Won’t she be able to get a message to him through the studio?”
I cursed under my breath. Such an obvious solution. “I’ll try.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go then. Call me before you board.”
“Okay.” I paused, wanting to somehow explain to her the whirl of emotions I was feeling. I needed her to comfort me, needed something to ease this fear. “Sofie…”
“I’ll call you if we hear anything. She’s going to be fine.”
I nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay so I could see the road in front of me. “Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I hung up the phone with shaking fingers. You need to get a hold of yourself. You have to get home safely.
I took deep breaths, concentrating on the traffic in front of me, until I knew my voice would be steady enough to talk again. Then I found Heidi’s number in my contacts, hoping she’d be able to reach Thomas for me.
***
When my flight landed in Detroit, I immediately turned on my phone, saying a silent prayer it would be full of good news.
There were three texts and two voice mails. None of them were from Thomas.
I scrolled through the texts. One from Callie, letting me know she’d heard and she was praying for us. The second from my brother Sam, giving me the address of the hospital and telling me that Mom was in surgery and there was no news yet.
It’s bette
r than bad news, I reminded myself, but I found no comfort in the thought. I pressed the voicemail button, holding the phone to my ear.
“Lizzie, this is Heidi. I’ve been trying Thomas and everyone I can think of at the studio. I think they’re just out of range. The shoot was pretty far out in the mountains. We’re going to get the message to him, I promise. Try not to worry.”
The second was from Imogen. “Lizzie, I’m so sorry about your mum. I’ve arranged a car to pick you up at the airport in Detroit. The driver will be at luggage claim. Call me when you have news. You’re in my prayers, Lizzie.”
I felt choked up all over again at her thoughtfulness. Not having to find a cab or go to the car rental desk took a huge load off my shoulders. I sent her a quick text. Just landed. Thank you for the car.
I stared at my phone for a minute, filled with a terrible fear that something had happened that my family didn’t want to tell me about through voicemail. I rubbed my fingers along the rosary beads in my pocket, an action I had repeated incessantly since boarding the plane, thankful that I remembered to grab Thomas’s Christmas gift from my dresser in Malibu. I didn’t know if I should I call Maria. Would Sofie be most likely to answer? Finally I dialed my brother’s number. Sam would be straight with me.
“Lizzie,” he said, his voice full of relief. “Are you home?”
“I just landed.” I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the sound of his voice wash over me. “Sam, how is she? I have this horrible fear something’s wrong and you guys don’t want to tell me over the phone—”
“There’s no change, Lizzie. I swear it. She’s still in surgery.”
I breathed out deeply. “Okay. They haven’t let us off the plane yet, but I’ll come straight there.”
“How are you getting up here? Shit, I should have come to get you.”
“No way would I let you leave the hospital. There’s a driver waiting for me.”
“Oh, thank God. I don’t like the idea of you driving.”
I was quiet for a minute, twisting the rosary between my fingers, wishing I could tell him how scared I was. Wishing he could reassure me, the way he always had when I was little. “Sammy—”
Lovestruck in Los Angeles Page 20