by Dark Angel
I’ve done that for too long. Years. I never let myself think about it. I’ve thrown myself into my work during the day and my playboy lifestyle at night, never giving myself time to dwell on my losses. Simultaneously avoiding letting my guard down. Protecting myself from the assault of pain that’s hitting me right now.
But maybe that’s what I need. To feel again. That’s what Cara’s forced me to do. And while I’m hurting like a motherfucker right now, it’s better than being numb.
Because I’ve missed out on so much by keeping myself detached, remaining aloof. I might not have been hurting, but I also wasn’t living. Not really. It was all a farce.
Right now all I want is to be back with Cara. Living.
I go down to my knees in front of my brother’s grave and speak from my heart.
“Lucas,” I sigh. “God, I miss you, brother. So fucking bad.”
My chest tightens painfully, and I almost want to run back to the car and drive away from this shit, but I’m hoping against hope that somehow coming here will give me some kind of direction. Some clarity on what I need to do.
I take a deep breath. “I fell in love, man. Wish you were here to see her. To meet the woman who finally brought Liam Donovan to his knees.” I chuckle, thinking about how much Lucas would love Cara.
I pour my heart out there in the middle of the graveyard, spilling my guts to my brother, even though he’s long gone from this world. I tell him all about how we met, how she stole my heart from the very beginning without me even realizing it.
Then I tell him, “I fucked up, man. Bad. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I pause, drawing a deep breath, letting all my words settle in the silence. I really did screw this up. I was in on the ploy from the very beginning. And while she was, too, she wasn’t aware the entire time like I was. For all she knows, I was just fucking with her the whole time. She has no way of knowing if anything I said was true. If my feelings are real or not. If everything we shared was all part of an elaborate game or if it was all real. It was. Every fucking bit of it.
But I can see now just how much my deception hurt her. She feels betrayed. Because I knew all along what she was up to, her lies don’t feel like a betrayal. But mine do.
I blow my breath out through my teeth and scrape my hand over my face. “God, Lucas, I miss you so bad, but the idea of losing Cara hurts just as bad in a different way.” I set my jaw, not wanting to accept that I could have lost her for good. That it’s over.
It’s not over. I won’t let go of her now that I’ve found someone that has made me feel again.
“I won’t lose another person I love, Lucas. Not when she’s still here. Donovans never say die, right?” My lips lift in a sorrowful smile. We always used to say that. We were tenacious. Not willing to give up on anything. Ever. And I know that’s how Lucas was in his final moments, fighting to the death, unwilling to give up or give in.
And that’s how I want to be. Unafraid. Determined.
I nod, feeling as if my brother is right there with me, smiling over me as I come to this realization. As if coming to this place really did give me the clarity I was searching for.
I stand, a new resolve forming in my spirit, and I tell my brother what I’m going to do as a plan forms in my mind.
“I’m going to get Cara back. I’m going to make her mine. Forever.”
Liam
Betty brings me another cup of coffee the next morning as I work like a madman.
“Thanks, love,” I tell her, flashing her a quick smile.
“Hard at work, aren’t you?” Her grandmotherly demeanor makes me happy. “I’ll keep it coming,” she says, nodding at the coffee.
“Please,” I reply, giving her a mock-desperate look. I’m going to need all the energy I can get if I’m going to pull this thing off. I was up most of the night thinking about my plan, and when I realized I was just tossing and turning at four this morning, I came to the office to get shit done. I’ve worked almost an entire work day already, and I’m nowhere near finished.
Betty leaves, shutting the door that separates my office from the lobby where her desk is, and I pick up the phone, making what feels like the thousandth call today.
I speak to the head of one of my favorite charities, getting his opinion and input, seeing how fast he can make things happen, typing out emails and arranging conference calls and making lists of vendors all at the same time. Normally for something this huge, I’d outsource all this shit, but I don’t have any margin for error with this.
Everything has to be perfect. My whole fucking future hinges on it.
On one of my calls a bit later, I knock back what’s left of the coffee and click to my messaging app on my computer, requesting more from Betty.
She walks in with it almost immediately, in time to hear me raise my voice to the coordinator I’m speaking with. “You need to check with your superiors immediately. I’m calling in a favor here, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’ve donated uncountable amounts of money to your organization. I expect to hear back from you in the next hour with a different answer.”
I slam the phone down, and Betty looks at me in surprise. I don’t often have to play the role of a hard-ass when it comes to my business interactions, but I’ve been calling in favors all fucking day for this. I don’t like being told no. It’s not something I’m used to. And it pisses me off to be told my requests can’t be accommodated on such short notice. Fuck that. I’m not above reminding anyone and everyone what all I’ve done for them in the past. This is too fucking important.
Just as Betty sets my coffee down, Connor appears in the doorway, his eyebrows flying nearly up to his hairline at the chaos my office has become. Discarded coffee cups, wadded up papers, notepads everywhere. My office is always immaculate, but this kind of reflects my current state of mine.
“How’s it going, man?” he asks warily as Betty makes herself scarce, shutting the door on her way out.
I glare at him.
Connor holds his hands up, palms out. “Sorry for asking. Caught you at a bad time, apparently.” But it doesn’t stop him from sitting down on one of the leather chairs across from me. He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “How are things with Cara?”
I groan.
“That bad?”
“Well, let’s just say that telling a fucking lie isn’t the best way to start a new relationship.”
Connor gives me a sympathetic look. “It was a fucking bad idea. I’m sorry, dude. I really thought it might help you see the light, though.”
I snort. “See the light? What are you, a fucking prophet now?”
Connor chuckles. “I just mean that it’s time you stopped the path of self-destruction you were on.”
I roll my eyes. He acts like he’s so wise, but it’s his stupid idea that got me into this mess in the first place. But then I sigh. I can’t really be mad because if it weren’t for him, I never would have met Cara in the first place.
“Well, your plan backfired,” I say. “But that’s okay. If nothing else, I realized you’re right. And I fucking love her, dude. How crazy is that?”
Connor smiles. “I’d say I never thought I’d see the day, but…”
“Okay, smart ass. You were right about Cara being the girl for me, but you’re brilliant idea still landed me in hot water.” I grin anyway. “But I have a plan. I’m going to get her back.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell me more.”
I start telling him some of the plans I’m putting in place, but stop when my phone blinks and vibrates on my desk. I pick it up and stare at the screen.
Cara.
I let it go to voicemail.
“What the fuck, man?” Connor asks. “You sure have a funny way of trying to win a girl back.”
I shake my head, a smile curving my lips. “Wrong, genius. The next time I talk to Cara, it’s going to be face to face. None of this pussy over the phone bullshit.”
Then I finish filling him in on
my plans. When I’m done, he leans back in his chair and lets out a low whistle.
“That takes some serious balls, dude.”
I shrug. “Go big or go home.”
Connor laughs, shaking his head. “Good luck, man. Good luck.”
I nod my thanks. Because I’m sure going to fucking need it.
Cara
Hangovers aren’t fun.
Getting drunk and acting like a depressed mess is kinda liberating for awhile, I guess, but the world doesn’t stop turning because you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Which means that, the first thing I did after waking up in the morning, was take a cold shower and get dressed for work. After all, Lust Muscle isn’t going to run itself.
Even though Renee tucked me into bed, promising me that she’d allow me to call Liam in the morning, I quickly realized that I couldn’t do it sober. She left my phone in my bed stand and, despite looking at Liam’s number for an eternity, I eventually gave up on it.
It’s 10 am now, and I haven’t picked up my phone since I left the apartment. I’m trying to focus on going through the mountain of paperwork that has piled up on my desk, but it’s almost impossible to do so. I’m hungover and, more than just that, I’m feeling embarrassed.
Liam is probably still mad with me, and I can’t just call him out of the blue. After all, I said some harsh things. Can I blame him if he’s pissed at me? I guess I can’t, especially because I’m pissed at myself for acting like such a bitch. And the worst thing is, I can’t stop thinking of that. It’s like these thoughts are a scratched recorded, repeating themselves over and over again.
“Cara, there’s someone here for you,” I hear my assistant’s voice coming from the intercom, derailing my train of thought.
“Whoever it is, I’m not seeing any clients today,” I reply, pressing the blinking red button on my old fashioned intercom. I get back to my paperwork, fairly confident that I won’t get any more interruptions, but two seconds later the door to my office swings open with a loud noise.
I raise my head and look toward the noise, blinking as I try to figure out who’d break in here like that. Ah, what am I saying? The answer to that couldn’t be any more self-evident.
The one and only, Misty Lane.
She has her hair tied up in a bun, and there’s a smile on her face; instead of looking like an alcoholic mess, this time she just looks… well, she just looks like a mess. From inside her pink purse, Cupcake is looking at me with his kind but lazy eyes.
“Cara,” Misty greets me with a nod, walking toward my desk and sitting in front of me. Surprisingly, she isn’t walking erratically and her speech isn’t slurred. I think this is the first time in my life that I’m meeting Sober Misty. Which, now that I think about it, is kinda weird.
“What are you doing here, Misty?” I ask her, my headache growing tenfold with her presence. Despite knowing that she was just playing a role, Misty really turned out to be a major pain in the ass. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to see her ever again. But now here she is, as sober as a judge.
“I came here for this,” she says with a smile, taking a folded envelope from inside her purse. She places it face down on my desk and slides it toward me. Never taking my eyes off hers, I pick the envelope up and open it.
Inside, there’s a check.
“It’s your payment,” she continues, “you deserve it.”
I raise my eyes from the check and look at her, having no idea on what I should say. Is she for serious?
“And I want to apologize. I know that sometimes I can be quite intense, and I guess I overdid it this time. I just lost myself in the role, you know? Being an actress isn’t easy, Cara,” she tells me gravely, almost as if she believes she’s offering me one of life's secrets.
“You were in a reality TV show, Misty…” I tell her, my brain overheating as I try to crack her thought process.
“Yeah, that really helped me hone my acting skills,” she giggles, patting Cupcake’s head with one hand. “But, anyway. I’m really sorry for all the stress I might have caused - but it was all in the name of love, right?”
“Maybe,” I sigh, leaning back against my chair. Even though Misty might be a complete lunatic, I can’t hold a grudge against someone like her. She’s a lunatic, yeah, but a lovable one. And I guess that, in a twisted way, she really believed she was doing the right thing. I just wish she hadn’t, ahem, lost herself in the role she was playing.
“Maybe?” She asks me, placing both her elbows on the desk and leaning forward.
“Yeah. Things aren’t that great right now, and I haven’t heard from Liam.”
“Oh, Cara, Cara… You really need to step up your game,” she nods sagely, looking at me as if she were my mentor, ready to make me see my true potential. “Do you know what you need to do?”
“What, Misty?” I ask her, genuinely curious about what a troubled mind like hers will come up with.
“Easy. Very, very easy - just put on something sexy and go find him. Nobody can stay mad at their true love… Especially if she’s dressed in nothing but a trench coat and lingerie.”
“Are you… serious?” Does she really want me to go after Liam with a trench coat? I want to make things right, not to have a restraining order slapped on me.
“Of course I’m serious! Trust me, I’ve done that a lot, and it worked every single time!”
“Alright, Misty…” I chuckle, wondering if a trenchcoat and a lingerie is all of Misty’s arsenal when it comes to seducing a man. “I’ll skip the trench coat, but I think you’re right… I have to find him.”
“Of course you do!” She giggles happily, jumping up to her feet. She walks around the desk and, now standing in front of me, she grabs me by the hand and forces me up. “And you have to do it right now!”
“Right now…?”
“True love can’t wait, Cara!” She cries out, working herself into a frenzy as she pushes me out of my own office. Ah, screw it - she’s right.
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and do something about it.
True love can’t wait.
Cara
I can’t believe I’m actually following Misty’s advice. But, hey, she was right, wasn’t she? Aside from that trench coat thing, that is.
After leaving my office building (or, rather, after Misty forced me to leave), I grabbed a taxi and headed straight toward Liam’s apartment building. It was a short ride, yes, but my heart was hammering against my chest the whole time. I never thought I’d feel this anxious for a man, but there you have it - sometimes love sneaks up on you like this, no warning shots at all.
Misty’s words still echo in my head, too. She talked of true love, whatever that means, and these two words have been buzzing inside my head ever since I left the office. I mean, what the hell is true love? Is it about trust, sex, or something else? Is it about these butterflies inside your stomach, or that dizziness you feel when your crush looks your way?
I always thought that love - let alone true love - was nothing more than a fantasy. A trick played by a smart cocktail of hormones, carefully prepared over millions and millions of years. A biological sleight of hand, if you want.
But ever since I met Liam… It’s hard to explain, but now I understand how people get shot through the heart with that elusive arrow. More than just biology, it’s a feeling that transcends all that… Sure, it’s possible that I simply lost myself in an illusion, but something inside me tells me that’s not the case.
Whatever there is between Liam and I, it’s real.
And it’s exactly because I’m certain of that realness that I’m now inside an elevator, making my way up to the top floor of his apartment building. With my arms folded over my chest, I tap my foot against the floor of the elevator anxiously, watching as the numbers climb up in the electronic panel mounted over the doors.
When the doors finally slide open, I stroll in the hallway confidently, making my way toward his apartment door. Taking a deep breath, I rap my knuckles
against the door and wait anxiously, trying to hear if there’s any sound coming from the inside. I hear nothing for a few seconds, and so I just knock again.
I’m almost ready to give up after my third try, but then I hear footsteps coming from the other side of the door. My heart picks up the pace once again, and it does it so fiercely that I feel myself growing slightly lightheaded.
And that’s when the door swings open.
“Liam, I --” I start to say, but then I shut up real quick as I realize that the man facing me isn’t Liam.
“You must be Cara,” the man tells me with a smile. He’s tall and handsome, his sleek brown hair combed back, and he’s wearing dress pants and a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s probably the same age as Liam, but he doesn’t seem to be part of the Donovan family: the lines in his face lack that ruggedness, and the twinkle in his eyes doesn’t have the same intensity that shone in both Liam and his father’s eyes.
“I am,” I reply, surprised. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Connor,” he says, offering me his hand. “I’m a friend of Liam’s. And his attorney as well.”
“Uhm… Where’s Liam? I need to see him,” I tell him as I shake his hand awkwardly. Something in his eyes, though, tells me that I won’t like the answer he’s going to give me.
“Liam isn’t here,” he replies, one hand of his still grabbing the door. “He was here with me a while ago, going through some paperwork, but then he left. You just missed him.”
“Where did he go?” I insist, even though whatever hope I had of finding Liam has already been crushed into a million little pieces. Even if this Connor knows where Liam is, I doubt he’ll tell me.
“I have no idea,” Connor shrugs, looking at me with an expression of pity. “I’m sorry,” he then adds. “You gave him a lot to think about, Cara. He’s probably just clearing his head right now.”
“Oh,” I say, averting my gaze as I feel tears flooding my eyes. “I see. I’ll… I’ll just come back later,” I continue, already turning on my heels to leave. I walk toward the elevator as if I’m in a daze and, the moment I hear Connor closing the door behind me, I feel my heart tightening up into a fist.
