by Leisa Rayven
As he presses the card into my hand, humiliation sinks into my bones.
He said he loved me. That he missed me. That some actors might fall for their leading ladies, but he never would. And I believed him.
I bought every single line he fed me and begged for more. I really am a special breed of idiot.
Part of me is blindsided, but another part is completely unsurprised it’s happened again. Of course it has.
I look back at Liam and Angel, still groping each other for the camera. Liam’s eyes flicker to me, and I see it—the exact moment he realizes I know. His face drops and clouds with guilt, and then a look of indescribable sadness settles on his features. The photographer barks something at him and Liam glances at him briefly before turning back to me.
As I stare at him, my eyes prickle with hot tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m filled with so much rage, I’m shaking. More than anything, I’m angry with myself. I knew the risks of falling for him, and I let it happen anyway.
I deserve this. It’s as much my fault as it is his.
When I can’t bear to look at him anymore, I turn and walk away. I hear him yell my name, but I don’t stop. What would be the point?
Everything hurts as I walk, and I curse myself for wanting to run back and beg him to change his mind.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I really that unlovable?
Tears well up again, and I tense every muscle to stop the emotion from overwhelming me.
Maybe I’m just supposed to live out my days with Josh and have casual sex with others. Maybe there isn’t a man out there who loves me enough to want my body and heart.
I want to deny that I love Liam so it won’t hurt so much, but I can’t. I don’t think I really loved the other guys who dumped me, but him … For all my ranting about fate, it felt like he was meant for me. Why couldn’t the only one I really wanted want me back?
I wipe my eyes in frustration. My face is hot with shame and embarrassment, and I’m so weary all I want to do is curl into a ball and close my eyes.
I’m almost to the subway station when my phone buzzes with a message. I stop dead when I see it’s from Liam. I stare at it for a long time.
I expected him to roll out the usual shtick: “It’s not you, it’s me.” Or, “We want different things.” Or my personal favorite: “I think we’re better as friends.”
The message I’m staring at is none of those things. It simply says, “I’m sorry.”
No denial. No excuses.
I don’t know why those two words crack my self-control, but they do. I break down in the middle of the pavement and cry in a way I’ve never cried before. It’s ugly, and every sob shoots pain through my chest. And even though I know people are staring, I can’t stop.
Years ago I saw a magazine article that claimed everyone should have their heart broken at least once in order to become a better person. It said that the pain of losing someone you love will teach you about yourself. Develop your strength and resilience.
Whoever wrote that article can go fuck themselves.
Heartache doesn’t teach you to be resilient. It teaches you to protect your fragility. It teaches you to fear love. And it draws a bright red circle around all the ways you’ve failed as a person and laughs while you cry.
I don’t know how long I stand there and sob, but after a while, all my tears are gone, and I collapse onto a nearby bench as I try to pull myself together. There’s a deep, angry pain in my chest, and I wonder how long I’ll have to live with it.
When the shadows start to lengthen and the streetlights flicker on, I stand and slowly head toward home.
At least having my heart broken by Liam Quinn taught me one thing. It’s taught me that I never want to feel this way about a man ever again.
NINE
PRESENT TENSE
Present Day
Pier 23 Rehearsal Rooms
New York City
The morning after I spill the beans about Liam to Josh, I feel better. Until then, I’d never let myself mourn losing Liam, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t let him go. Perhaps Josh was right. I should have confided in him about all of this years ago. He remains dubious about my ability to keep my personal and professional lives separate, but I reassure him I’ve been subjected to countless pictures of Liam and Angel over the years. I’m practically desensitized to their coupledom by now.
I’m still setting up the rehearsal room when noise from the fans downstairs escalates. Just like yesterday, the golden couple’s arrival is heralded by a cavalcade of earsplitting screams. The difference is that when they stride into the room today, they’re accompanied by a whole slew of extra people. Two camera crews, a sound guy, a pimply production runner, and a hassled female producer who looks like she hasn’t slept in three days trail after them. They circle the stars like anxious human planets. Marco hurries over to the production desk, followed closely by our publicist, Mary. The tiny Botoxed woman looks like the cat who swallowed the canary, while Marco looks like a serial killer who’s about to flay people alive.
“Great news, team!” Mary says with her trademark enthusiasm. “As previously discussed, from today until the show opens, Liam and Angel will be filming their upcoming reality show, Angeliam: A Fairy Tale Romance.”
I cringe over the hideous moniker the pulp media have named them. Angeliam? Is that necessary? It sounds like an antifungal cream: “My crotch rot used to get super-itchy, but now, with a generous application of Angeliam, I barely notice it.”
Mary turns to me. “Elissa, can you make sure you stay on top of their filming schedule? You have the list of the setups they need, right?”
“Yes. All fine.”
“Marco will rely on you and Josh to ensure rehearsal disruption is kept to a minimum.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
We’ve known for a couple of weeks this reality show would intersect with our rehearsals, and even though Marco hates the idea, he’s grudgingly agreed it’s great publicity. Unlike most reality shows, which are produced months in advance, this one is televised the weekend after it’s shot. I suspect that’s why the producer looks so frazzled. Piecing together dozens of hours of footage into some sort of interesting narrative must be a nightmare.
Amidst all the mayhem, Liam and Angel chat quietly in the corner, arms around each other. How they can look so natural and unaffected when there are cameras two feet away, I’ll never know.
I hear Angel say, “I love you, baby, and I can’t wait to finally be Mrs. Quinn.” Liam gives her an adoring smile, then kisses her gently. The part of me that still loves him swoons. I remember what it was like to be kissed like that.
“Elissa?” Mary says.
“Hmmm?”
“I also need you to make sure everyone in the rehearsal room has signed the release forms. That includes you guys.”
Beside me, Marco groans. As flamboyant as he is, he has no desire to be on TV. I know how he feels. Josh, on the other hand, can’t wait. He believes his natural charisma and winning personality (his words) are going to make him a fan favorite. Knowing Josh, he’s probably right.
As soon as everyone has signed in, I round up the cast so Marco can start. For the most part, the TV crew stays out of the way, but whenever we have breaks, they follow Angel and Liam around like shadows.
At lunchtime, I’m pinning the shooting schedule to the notice board when I feel a presence behind me. I turn to see Angel there, smiling sweetly. A film crew hovers beside her.
“Hey, Elissa.”
I glance at the camera. God, this feels weird. We’ve all been told to ignore the camera and act natural, but that’s easier said than done. “Uh … yes, Miss Bell. Can I help you?”
She glances over her shoulder. “Sorry about the tagalong. You get used to it after a while.”
“I’m going to take your word on that. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, nothing, really. I just came over to say hi. Yesterday was such a blur, I didn�
��t get to talk to anyone. But I figure we’re all in this together for the next few months, so we should at least try to get to know each other.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam standing near the water cooler. He looks concerned. I’ve already reassured him I’m not going to tell her about us. What does he have to be worried about?
I plaster on a smile. “Of course. Feel free to ask me anything, Miss Bell.”
“Oh, please. It’s Angel. Well, it’s Angela, but only my father calls me that. So tell me, what exactly does a stage manager do?”
“She runs the whole show,” Liam says as he walks over to us with his own camera crew in tow. “Every single stage direction, costume change, set piece, prop, lighting cue, sound cue—all of it is overseen by the stage manager. After Marco finishes directing the show, it’s going to be up to Elissa to make it happen every night.”
Angel links her arm through Liam’s but keeps her eyes on me. “Wow, sounds like a lot of responsibility. You must have to work under a lot of pressure.”
I nod. “I don’t mind pressure.”
“Don’t be modest,” Liam says. “Elissa thrives under pressure. I’ve never seen someone become so focused while everyone else loses their minds.”
Angel puts a hand on his bicep. “Sweetie, we should take Elissa out for dinner one night, yes? You two probably have some amazing stories from the show you did together. I’d love to hear about your early days. You never talk about them.”
Before Liam can say anything, Angel turns to me. “What do you say, Elissa? It’d be fun, right? Plus, any friend of Liam’s is a friend of mine.”
I open my mouth to say that Liam and I have never been friends, but the look on his face stops me. Instead I say, “Sure. That would be great.”
Considering Marco’s directive to keep our leads happy no matter what, I figure I have no choice but to agree.
“Mr. Quinn?” Josh steps beside me. “Marco is ready for you.” His tone is less friendly than usual, but if Liam notices, he doesn’t let it show. Josh turns to Angel. “Miss Bell, I’ll be back to collect you in a few minutes.”
Angel beams at him. “Thanks, Josh.”
Josh’s ears turn pink. I wonder if that’s going to happen every time he talks to her.
Liam starts to leave, but before he can, Angel grabs his arm and pulls him over. “See you soon, honey.” She stands on her toes to give him a light kiss. The camera crews jostle to get the best shot of the lip-lock.
When Liam pulls back, he looks over at me for a millisecond before returning his attention to her. “See you soon.”
Josh escorts Liam and his entourage into the rehearsal room, leaving me and Angel alone. “So, Elissa, how long have you and Josh been together?”
“Ten years.”
Her mouth drops open. “Whoa. Did you start dating when you were toddlers?”
I laugh. “We’ve been best friends since high school. We’re not romantically involved.”
“Really? But Denise said you live together.”
“We do. But we don’t sleep together.”
“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed…” She waves her hand. “Never mind. It’s great you two are able to work and live together. Having someone who can sympathize with the stress of your job is invaluable, right? I’d be a total basket case if I didn’t have Liam to keep me grounded. When the crazy train gets to be too much, he knows just how to talk me down.”
Of course he does. He’s that kind of man.
“I can imagine your world would be pretty insane at times. I’m sure you help him just as much as he helps you. It’s great you have each other.” I almost get through the entire sentence without choking on my jealousy.
Angel smiles at me, and when I smile back, she surprises me by wrapping her arms around me and giving me a tight hug. “You’re the sweetest. Thank you.” She gives me a final squeeze, then Josh is there to take her back into rehearsals.
Once she’s gone, I run my hands through my hair.
Well, that was surreal.
As much as I’d love to hate Angel Bell, there’s something appealing about her. She’s warm, friendly, and looks at me in a way that makes me believe she’s interested in what I have to say.
As if this situation with Liam wasn’t already weird, liking his fiancée has taken it to the next level.
* * *
“So, then,” Angel says, and leans forward in the chair beside my desk. “As we’re leaving the club, this idiot starts harassing Liam. I mean, the guy only came up to the middle of Liam’s chest and would blow away in a strong wind, but he was drunk, so I guess he thought talking smack to someone twice his size was a good idea.” I’m supposed to be working, but Angel’s made a habit of sitting in my office every lunch hour and distracting me with stories. I both hate and love these little insights into her life with Liam. My life seems completely boring in comparison.
“What did Liam do?” I ask.
“Well, he tried to walk away, but the little shit just kept getting in his face, and by now, he’s just hurling abuse about how much Rageheart sucks and what a pussy Liam is. Now, Liam’s a pretty patient guy most of the time, but I could see him simmering. Then the guy starts insulting me, calling me a talentless bimbo and whatever, and going on about my fake boobs, and that’s when Liam snaps. He picks up the dude by his shirtfront and gets this murderous look on his face. Then he pulls the guy right up to his face and whispers, ‘Feel free to ignore this, considering I’m such a pussy, but if you say one more word about Angel, I’m going to tear off your arms. Understand?’” She laughs and leans back in her chair. “The guy went white as a sheet, and when Liam lowered him to his feet, he almost fell over. Liam helped him regain his balance, then gave him a wad of cash and apologized for ruining his shirt. Dude just stood there with his mouth hanging open before he burst into tears.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yep. And I’d like to say that was a weird night for us, but it really wasn’t. Seems like a whole lot of folks either love us or hate us. Or hate to love us, and love to hate us. It’s a thing. We’re used to it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know how you cope.”
She shrugs. “Practice. And hard drugs.” When she sees my face drop, she laughs. “Kidding.” I sigh in relief before she adds, “I’ve been off the crack for ninety days now. It’s all good. Barely miss it anymore.”
The sincerity with which she says it makes me laugh. I’m surprised how often I do that around her. I really do enjoy her company. I’ve been best friends with Josh for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a female friend.
She crosses her legs and cocks her head. “So, I was thinking…”
I flash her a look of concern. “Should I be worried?”
“You’re hilarious.” She rolls her eyes. “I was thinking we should have dinner together. Tonight.”
“Ah, Angel…” I cringe. “I don’t think—”
“Come on, Elissa, please. I’ve arranged a private table for us at Lumiere, and considering that place usually requires bookings months in advance with proof of your bank balance, it wasn’t easy to achieve. We really want you to come.”
“We?”
“Me and Liam.” Clearly, she’s failed to notice her man avoiding me all week.
“Liam agreed to this?”
“Of course. Oh, and bring your boyfriend.” I make a surprised sound. “Liam said you were dating someone. Bring him. Please. Liam and I are sick of each other’s company. We’ll go insane if we don’t interact with real people for a change.”
“So you usually hang out with imaginary friends?”
She shakes her head. “Real, as in normal. Not actors, or ass-kissers, or Hollywood fakers.”
I’m about to try to come up with a believable excuse when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Liam steps into the room, and does a double take when he sees Angel.
“Uh … hey. I thought I heard your voice.”
&
nbsp; She gives him a formal nod. “Love of my life. Hello.”
He looks at me, then back to her. “What are you doing in here?”
“Chatting. Bragging about you. Torturing Elissa. You know, the usual. I’m trying to convince her to have dinner with us.” She stands and goes over to him. “Please tell her there’s no use resisting. She seems to think she has a choice in the matter.”
Before he can say anything, Angel’s phone rings. She looks at it, then at me. “I have to take this. Be right back. Liam, give her your puppy-dog eyes and tell her she needs to join us.” She swipes her phone. “Daddy! How are you?”
She takes the call out into the hallway, leaving Liam and me staring awkwardly at each other. He glances away and shoves his hands in his pockets. This is how he’s been all week. He avoids looking at me whenever possible, and goes through Josh for questions and notes to avoid addressing me directly. Probably for the best. I seem to have a Best of Liam Quinn pornographic show reel on standby in my brain, and whenever we’re alone together, it starts playing.
“Insistent little thing, isn’t she?” I say, and smooth back the wisps of hair that have escaped my ponytail. True to form, images of him and me making love flash through my brain. I try to keep my expression neutral as my body tingles with the phantom graze of his hands.
As for Liam, I have no idea what’s going through his mind, but the way he’s looking at me isn’t helping. After a few seconds, he breaks eye contact to stare at the floor.
“Angel likes you. So you should just agree to come to dinner and be done with it. Lord knows, I haven’t yet found a way to win an argument with her.”
I look down and shuffle some papers in front of me. “Angel and I can just go by ourselves. You don’t have to come.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him focus on me again. “What if I want to come?”
“You don’t have to feel obligated to spend time with me just because your fiancée likes my company.” I chance a look at his face. He’s frowning. “Things between you and me haven’t been exactly friendly for the past week.”