by K. K. Allen
His kisses slowed, and I swore I heard him sigh. “Not tonight, okay?”
His gentle eyes met mine for a few moments before I gave in and nodded. “Okay.”
But as his fingers brushed over my breasts, searching, teasing, I couldn’t help but notice something different in his touch, something possessive yet raw, like he was trying to slow down the clock by taking his time with me.
When he set me back on my feet, it was only to give himself enough time to undress us before I was back in his arms. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he pushed into me, his pace excruciatingly slow. His kisses were tortuously sweet, his breath hot like fire as it came in waves over my skin.
Deep down, I knew what Liam was doing to me that night, and just like all the nights that had come before it, I allowed it. I let him claim me with his touch. But that was the first night I knew with every fiber in my being that Liam Colborn was worse than a tattoo inked permanently on my skin. Liam was a branding iron permanently etching himself into my heart.
29
Liam
By the time I crept in through the back door of the Hogues’ house, it was well past midnight. I was returning with a heavier heart than I’d left with. After her mother’s question at the tearoom earlier today, all I knew was that I wanted to see her, hold her, kiss her, touch her. I wanted Chelsea in all the ways I’d come to familiarize myself with. Most of all, I wanted clarity.
Heading back to London had always been the plan, but the question of when was still unclear. All I knew was that if Chelsea and I were to pursue something more than what we’d established, then I would need to shut the door on my past once and for all.
I shut the back door quietly behind me and turned. My heart punched through my chest when I saw Simon standing there with fury written all over his face. “I thought I’d made myself clear.”
There was no point in darting around the truth or trying to hide from it any longer, especially knowing the end was near. “Shit, Simon. You scared the bloody hell out of me.”
“I had my suspicions, but I was hoping for the best. I still am.” He raised his brows and pointed to the seat beside him. “Sit and start talking.”
Sighing, I did as he said, but I didn’t need more prodding to confess. It was time to get everything out in the open, and I would start with Simon. I told him almost everything. Leaving the intimate details aside, I was honest with him about how Chelsea and I had met, about how I’d gotten to know her so fast, and how I’d fallen so deeply. We talked about Blake and the trip Chelsea and I had taken to Newport. We talked about an uncertain future and all that it entailed.
In the end, Simon wasn’t angry. At least—not for the same reasons he’d started to be angry. It seemed, in some strange way, he understood. “So, this isn’t some kind of fling then?”
I shook my head, looking him dead in the eye. “Not at all, Simon. You have my word. I care about Chelsea quite a lot.”
Simon chuckled and shook his head. “Well, mate. Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into a predicament.”
“It will be fine. I’m handling it.”
He raised his brows. “Are you? Have you both forgotten where you live? Why you’re here?”
I fought my frustration and took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “No one has forgotten anything.”
“What happens next, Liam? Have you thought about that?”
The plan had always been to return to London when I had a clear head so I could deal with the wrath of my decisions. Now, I wasn’t so sure that was the best idea. “Not really, no. But I know I need to figure it out.”
“Well, for starters, you can turn on your phone.”
Simon pushed a silver object across the island, and I caught it before it fell over the edge. It was my phone. I hadn’t even looked at the thing the entire three weeks of my visit.
“I charged it for you.”
I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Simon would have dug around for my phone and charged it for me. That felt a little out of character. “But why—”
“Bart is why.” Simon rolled his eyes and tapped his phone on the counter. “He rang a few hours ago. I went looking for you and realized you never came back from your run. That’s when I put two and two together.”
“Hold up. Bart rang you? But—”
“He threatened to leak your whereabouts to the media if you didn’t call him back.”
That daft bastard. “How did he find out I was here?”
Simon ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Not for me to worry about. However, my family is something you should worry about. I let you stay, Liam, but I can’t have my family dragged into your mess. You need to go back to London, and you need to fix this.”
“I will,” I promised. The last thing I wanted was for Simon and his family to get dragged into my mess in any way. “I’ll call Bart back and see what I need to do. You don’t need to worry.” I hopped off the stool, clutched my phone in my hand, and jogged downstairs to my room, where I called Bart.
“It’s about bloody time, you daft twat.” Bart’s greeting was about as cool and unpleasant as I’d expect.
“You rang?”
What proceeded was a string of curse words and British slang that not even I could comprehend, followed by a growled “Get home now!”
I threw myself backward onto my bed and squeezed my eyes shut. “I need more time.”
“Time? Time?” Bart’s voice continued to rise. “Three weeks, Liam. You disappeared weeks ago, and you want more time?”
“How did you even know I was here?”
Bart chuckled. “Do you think you’re Batman? You think a man like you can waltz into a British tearoom wearing shades and go completely undetected? Are you mad? Everyone has been stalking your hashtags, Liam. Me included.”
I sat up again, not believing it was true. If someone had recognized me, surely they would have said something. “What?” I asked while reactivating one of my social media accounts and typing in my hashtag.
“Once I knew you were in Providence, I rang your mum. She wants you to come home too. If you think she’s been free and clear of the media just because you skipped town, then you’re wrong. She’s been hounded.”
My heart sank at the thought of my parents being swarmed with people wanting information. Then I saw what Bart was referencing on social media. “Holy fuck.”
#LiamColborn #BritishBachelor #Spotted #Providence. The string of clever hashtags seemed never-ending after a single photo of me stepping outside of Spill the Tea was shared thousands of times.
“Holy fuck, yes. Come home, Liam. We still have time to salvage this. To my understanding, the Hogues want nothing to do with you and your fame. Come home before the others figure out where you’re staying too.”
“You’re leaving?”
After I got off the phone with Bart, I went straight back to Chelsea’s and told her everything. Then, with tears glistening in her eyes, we made love. We were currently wrapped in each other’s arms, our heavy breaths finally evening out. She lay at my side as I stared up at the ceiling, watching the orange reflection of the flickering candle at her bedside.
When I’d lied to Simon and Bridget about going on a run earlier in the night, I’d known we needed to talk about me leaving. But after seeing her, I’d shoved it all aside for a chance to be with her without worries, without that looming cloud that had been hanging over us since the very beginning, thickening by the day, only promising more destruction when it finally was unleashed. Now, it was too late to run for cover. The storm was upon us.
While I’d stayed away from the world I’d left behind, it hadn’t erased what would be waiting for me when I finally returned. And while I would choose to ignore my past forever to make a new life here, that wasn’t the way the world worked. There needed to be closure, and I needed to be the one who sought it out.
“I wish I didn’t have to go. Everything I walked away from is still waiting there
for me. There’s just no delaying it anymore, not now that they know where I am.”
“We always knew this was coming.”
I hated the way her sad eyes stared back into mine, like I was crushing her when I couldn’t think of a single other solution. When she didn’t say another word, an idea sprang to mind.
“You could come with me—for a week, for forever.” I smiled to show her there was some levity in my serious words. Even in my own head, I knew the suggestion wasn’t my best idea. But what was the alternative? Leaving Providence and not knowing if or when I would see Chelsea again? That option felt incomprehensible.
Creases formed in her brows while her eyes searched mine. “Come with you to London?”
I nodded and swallowed, knowing how selfish my question sounded, but I couldn’t stop my mind from spinning solutions on how we could make it work. We’d find a flat for the two of us. She’d meet my family. She’d write while I dealt with the press. I could almost imagine a happy life.
“Oh, Liam.”
Her face looked completely crestfallen, and I readied myself for the rejection I should have expected the second the words came out of my mouth. My question had been unfair for so many reasons, namely the Hogues.
She shifted, propping herself up so she was looking down on me. “I love my life here. My parents are here. My friends are here. I’m about to publish my first book. I can’t uproot myself now.”
My gut churned as I felt my control over the situation, what little I ever had of it, slipping through my fingers. “Maybe you could plan a visit soon. You’d love London.” I felt the stretch of my words. Our situation was far too complicated to create a happy solution from it.
“Then what?” Chelsea’s shaky voice sharpened my focus on her. “I come visit for a week and then what? Then you come back here for a visit, and we rotate once a month?”
I opened my mouth, more than willing to agree to that idea, but then I saw her incredulous expression—the one that told me she’d given up on us before we’d even gotten started—and snapped it back shut.
She sat up quickly, the sheet falling away from her breasts as she pulled her hair up into a quick ponytail. I swallowed and ran my fingers up her spine, wanting to calm her before things got too heated. We needed a solution, not more chaos.
“We’ll figure it out.”
She looked at me over her shoulder. “I can’t see how.”
I sat up, feeling a charge of desperation run through my veins. I pressed my lips to her back and inhaled her sweet scent—a calming breath before speaking again. “Maybe that’s the beauty in all of this. We can’t see how it will all play out, but that doesn’t mean it won’t or can’t or shouldn’t. It just means that part of our story hasn’t been written yet.”
She studied me for a minute before a small smile broke loose on her beautiful face. “I hate to break this to you, Liam, but most readers hate cliff-hangers.”
I thought about that statement and how all I’d been doing for the past few months was reacting to what everyone else thought of me, strangers, women who never truly knew or loved me. What a waste that was, caring for people who knew nothing about what was good for me.
My eyes held Chelsea’s, and I cupped her cheek as my mouth met her ear. I wanted her to hear my words with every ounce of feeling they were backed with. “Then it’s a good thing we’re writing this story for us and not the whole damn world.”
30
Chelsea
The day before Liam was scheduled to leave town, summer turned to fall. It was only a week after our talk in my bedroom, but I considered it a sign—that even though the seasons were changing, Liam and I would hold strong, like a tree that adapted with the changing climate. That was what we would do, and we would be stronger for it in the end.
I soaked in his optimistic words, his promise to return, battling the doubtful thoughts that shot up like weeds when I least expected them. I wanted to believe that we could continue dating after he dealt with things back home. After falling so deeply, I needed to believe that was true.
I used to be one of those people who had a plan for everything. Even the things I didn’t want to do made it into my planner so the job would get tackled and there would be no question of my future. But at some point along the way, I realized that my obsession with planning had played into my blindness of where I was in life versus where I truly wanted to be.
Letting go had changed my perspective in so many ways, and I hoped it would keep me afloat now.
We were hanging out in the park on Blackstone Boulevard, which we’d arrived at after much debate. Before today, we’d been keeping to ourselves in my poolhouse, but we were both going stir-crazy. As soon as we arrived, Liam spotted a shaved-ice truck and bought us one to share while I lay out a blanket for us to sit on.
I sat between his legs as he fed us both spoonfuls as we chatted. It was simple, fun, and I loved that we didn’t have to sneak around behind Bridget and Simon’s backs anymore. We’d even all had dinner together last night, like one big happy family, and Liam didn’t hide where he spent his nights anymore. It all felt so natural, so real, so right.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back home?”
“Think of you.”
His quick answer made me smile. I turned to glare at him teasingly. He chuckled and kissed my cheek.
“I’m serious, Liam. I want to know.”
“Okay, okay. I haven’t made any plans. No point, really. Bart warned me that we’ll be busy from the moment I hit the tarmac.”
I frowned, my feelings for this Bart guy becoming overwhelmingly negative. Bart was Liam’s producer, one who had specifically been assigned to him during his time on British Bachelor. I’d yet to hear a single story that made me believe he had Liam’s best interests at heart.
A shrill ring sounded, and I groaned at yet another phone call Liam had to take.
“Speak of the Devil,” Liam muttered while reading the caller ID.
“Bart?”
He nodded. “I’ll tell him I’ll call him back.”
“You don’t have to. It might be important.”
“Okay, well, I’ll make it quick.” He tapped his phone to answer the call and put it to his ear. “Hiya, Bart.”
Ever since Liam had turned his phone back on, it hadn’t stopped going off. Mostly, it was Bart making plans and informing him of conversations he would be having with producers in preparation for Liam’s return. Sometimes it was a producer who was trying to cut through Bart and speak directly to Liam. Every so often I would hear him pick up the phone and answer with a “Hiya, Mum” in a soft voice that melted my heart.
The second Liam answered the phone this time, I could hear Bart’s anger practically blow through the phone. I made a face at Liam in response and grabbed the cup of flavored ice from his hands. Settling into his arms, I scooped a mouthful to satisfy me while I tried to focus on the people in the park rather than what Liam’s conversation was about.
The park’s paths were fairly crowded, considering it was the weekend. A family of four strolled by while the kids played tag in the grass. A boy with a dog walked him on a leash. A group of bicyclists, a man snapping photos with a large black lens, a girl riding her yellow skateboard to the ramps nearby—at a quick glance, it seemed like the perfect day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The birds were chirping, and Liam was holding me tightly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
My eyes darted around again, seeing all the same things I’d spotted before. I let out a heavy breath to try to shake my nerves. Ever since that photo of Liam had appeared on social media, I’d done some investigating of my own. That photo had been taken on the day we’d visited Spill the Tea with the kids. Liam hadn’t had his shades on, and the photo had been taken by someone right outside the shop. After a quick search through all the shared photos, I’d found the original post.
Gwen had taken that photo. At some point during our visit,
she’d made the connection and taken her gossip to a whole new level by making it public. Luckily, she’d left the kids and me out of the photo. I couldn’t even imagine Simon and Bridget’s fury if the twins and Brendan had been plastered all over social media too.
To top everything off, my mom had called me the day after the photos leaked, questioning me about Liam. I was vague but promised to tell her everything later. The less she knew while cameras started to pop up at the tearoom was safer for all.
Liam hung up from his call and grabbed for what was left of the shaved ice. “You sneaky woman,” he growled, making me laugh.
“It was melting,” I said in my defense.
He growled again, this time burying his mouth in my neck, and a wave of shivers erupted over my skin.
In all the chaos, one thing that remained was the calm that fell upon Liam when he would hang up the phone, every single time.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” He took the last bite and set down the empty cup beside us.
“Return to this playful, calm person after you’ve been spoken to like that. It’s not normal for people to yell all the time.”
Liam chuckled and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Bart wasn’t yelling. That’s just how he talks. But to answer your question, I’m only calm because I’m here with you.”
I looked back at him and smiled. “That’s sweet.”
He leaned in, touching his nose to mine. “It’s true, which means I’ll be a neurotic mess when I leave tomorrow. Are you sure you can’t come with me? I need you to save me from imploding, Chelsea.”
My heart beat so hard it felt like it was enveloping me in its rhythm. Instead of responding with an answer I knew would disappoint us both, I pressed my lips to his and sighed. We sat like that for a long time, slow-kissing and avoiding goodbye until daylight started to fade away.
