by K. K. Allen
32
Chelsea
The shrill of my phone ringing yanked me from a deep sleep and a very good dream, but when I saw the name that appeared on my caller ID, I smiled wide and rushed to answer. “Perfect timing. I was just having a very exciting dream about you and Willy.”
Liam’s deep chuckle reverberated over the line, and my heart practically melted at the sound. “Now that is an image I can go to bed with. Thanks, love.”
A yawn followed his words, causing me to frown. “Have you slept at all?”
“Not a wink. It’s been nonstop since I arrived. Sorry for not ringing earlier. I’m surprised production hasn’t taken my phone by now.”
“They can do that?”
“They can, and they will. My guess is Bart will take it before my interview today.”
I chuckled. “Ahh, Bart. I bet he was a joy to see again.”
Liam snorted. “I refer to him as my handler when we’re together. Today was a strange day. As annoying as the bloke is, I’m stuck with him until the end.” I could hear the frustration in Liam’s voice—like a weight was being added to his shoulders and he was desperate to breathe again.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but maybe this week won’t be as bad as you think.”
Liam made a noise. “I wish I could be as optimistic as you.”
I hated the thought of anything sabotaging Liam’s chance to move on. “What could possibly happen? You’re done with the show, right? I thought you just had to answer some questions for the media to wrap up your contractual obligations.”
“That should be all, but—” He paused slightly, and I wondered if Liam was trying to find the politically correct way to tell me what he was feeling. “It’s always safe to expect the unexpected with this show.”
I was still confused about where his doubts were coming from. “Have you talked to Bart about it?” Then I cringed, remembering his unsure thoughts about the guy. “I know he’s your producer, but what is his role in all of this anyway?”
“Bart’s job is to know my weaknesses and manufacture situations that will test me. It’s what makes great television. Great television creates buzz, and the more buzz, the better the ratings.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Anyway, I don’t want to burden you with the drama. If you don’t hear from me until this circus is over, you know why. They’ll take my phone. They’ll shut it off, then they’ll put me up in a bugged flat so they can track every move I make.”
“You’re kidding.” I was legitimately appalled at what he was saying.
They really were treating him like a prisoner.
“I’m afraid not, love.”
I couldn’t ignore the heavy disappointment that fell over me. It wasn’t enough that Liam was on an entirely different continent, but we couldn’t even speak? “I wish I’d known all that.”
“What would you have done, flown here with me?”
I knew he was teasing, but that was exactly what I was thinking. “Maybe I should have taken you seriously when you asked. It’s just—”
“Everything was moving so fast?”
The fact that he finished my thought, especially considering the topic at hand—us—made me know that we were exactly on the same page. My heart swelled with feelings that I wasn’t really expecting. Sure, Liam and I had spent a month getting to know each other and had only gotten closer in the last couple of weeks, but all this distance made me realize just how strong my feelings for him were.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, interrupting my thoughts, “you’d be miserable here alone. I’d be busy the entire time then knackered at the end of each day. It’s best you stayed home.”
“Well then, when you put it like that…” I trailed off as my mind started to go wild. I hated that a part of me wondered if there was another reason for him to not want me there during the madness.
“Enough about all that,” Liam said, changing the subject. “How was yesterday after I left?”
“Exhausting.” I found my smile again as a visual of my last night with Liam played out in my mind. “I worked on some edits and watched the girls until bedtime. Then I crashed. Are you heading to bed now?”
Rustling filled the line. “Just dropped my pants.”
A laugh slipped past my throat as I bit my bottom lip and rolled to my side to hug my pillow. I wished I were there to see that—to keep him awake, to help him fall asleep.
“I miss you.” I kept my voice gentle despite the nerves rattling around in my chest. “I know it’s only been a day, but I wanted you to know.”
The line crackled. At first, I thought I might have lost him, then his voice came through. “I miss you too.”
When silence stretched between us again, more doubt crept through my mind. “Are you sure everything’s okay over there?”
“It’s just—I don’t know what’s going to happen this week. These interviews could get pretty intense and—I can’t stomach the thought of you feeling less for me.”
His words hit me straight in the gut. “I would never think less of you, Liam. But what are you asking of me?”
“Your understanding, I guess.”
“Liam, I already understand you have a past and that there’s a contract at stake here. It’s only one week.”
“One week of torture,” he said.
“You can’t think of it like that, and you need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re a good man, and you made the right decision for you. They’ll see that in your interviews. They’ll see exactly who you are in your truth. Your heart is your greatest weapon.”
Silence sat between us, and I hated that Liam wasn’t there with me, where I could look into his eyes and carry his pain with him. I didn’t want him to be alone.
“All right, wise one.” He spoke so softly, but I could hear the smile in his voice. It was contagious.
“Get some sleep, okay? Call tomorrow if they don’t take your phone.”
“Try to stop me,” he teased. “Bye, love. Talk soon.”
He hung up, and I felt wide awake. After an invigorating shower, I stepped into a light jogging outfit and headed to Spill the Tea. When I got there, it was still too early for the tearoom to be open, so I knocked on the glass and waved at my mom and dad when they looked up. My mom practically leapt to the door, causing me to laugh.
She let me in and locked the door behind me before facing me with a stern look. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
I cringed with my smile and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sorry. After word got out about Liam, I couldn’t say much. I still can’t believe Gwen posted what she did on social media. She had no business doing that.”
“Oh, I agree. Although,” my mom started with a light laugh, “business has been tremendous. Your dad and I have been swamped with to-go orders and a packed house every day since that post went viral. I’m not saying I’m happy about Liam’s situation, but it’s been a long time since we didn’t have to watch the redline. It feels good.”
A lump filled my throat when I tried to swallow again. My parents never talked finances with me, but I always had a feeling they were barely making ends meet. They never advertised. Their prices were always too cheap, and they could never afford to hire an employee to cover for them on the odd occasion that one of them couldn’t work. It had always caused me an inkling of worry, so to hear my mom get so excited over business definitely played on my emotions.
I circled my palm on my mother’s back. “You deserve all the attention. Just think, with all these new customers, that will mean more word of mouth and more new customers. You might need to finally break down and hire someone.”
She giggled. “Oh dear.” She playfully slapped my wrist. “It’s only been a week. I’m sure it will die down once they realize Liam is back in London.”
I didn’t want my mom to think visitors were only coming into Spill the Tea to see if they could spot Liam. “You never know, Mom. Give yourself some credit. You do make the best scones and f
aux creme on this side of the pond.” I smiled. “Word of mouth is everything.”
She gave me a satisfied smile and tugged me to the counter. “Now that you’re here, I want to hear the story. Everything.”
I chose to be reserved in the information I gave her. Gwen was still her friend, and it wasn’t like Liam was there with me now. We were in two different countries, living our lives, and hoping for something we could one day share. I didn’t want to get my mom’s hopes up, but I told her about some of our dates and the gentleman he was. I even threw in the story about how he scared off Dean, which had her giggling all over again.
“Well,” my mom said after I told her about his request that I join him in London. “If it were me and your father in this same situation when we first started dating, I would have gone.”
“You would have? Just like that? After only knowing him for a month?” I reeled back. “It all feels too fast to fly to another country for a guy.”
My mom made a face. “Not if that guy is Liam Colborn.”
“Wait a second.” I laughed. “Two weeks ago you thought Liam was everything the media portrayed him to be. What did you call him? A coward and a prick?”
She visibly turned red then waved a hand in front of her face. “Nonsense. If I did say something of that sort, that was before I realized I knew him.”
The way my mom feigned innocence had me biting back more laughter.
“But you don’t know him.”
She put her hands on her hips in a posture that told me she was ready to scold me. “He was a regular of mine and very sweet. The media has it all wrong, but they’ll catch on. Just you wait.”
I smiled, loving how fiercely my mother already loved Liam.
My phone rang, and I excused myself to grab it. My mom went to fuss behind the register, counting cash in the drawer and tidying up before it was time to open the tearoom.
My brows bent at the strange number on my caller ID until I realized it was a number from another country. “Oh my gosh. It’s him.” My heart was racing as I rushed to answer the call. He’d mentioned that his phone would get taken away. Maybe he’d found another way to get ahold of me. My cheeks were hurting from smiling so big.
“Hello.”
“Yes, hello. Is this Chelsea Banks?”
Disappointment sank low in my gut. “This is she.”
“Sorry to bother, miss. My name is Bart Landers. I’m Liam’s producer from British Bachelor. I’m calling to talk to you about Liam, if that’s all right.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “Is he okay?”
A chuckle floated over the line. “Yes, miss. He’s all right. However, he’s told me quite a lot about you, and I gather that you might feel the same about him?”
And now every organ in my body was officially melting to the floor. “Of course I do.”
It was in that next breath that I caught myself for talking to a complete stranger about my relationship with Liam. Who was this man? If he was the same Bart that Liam had been dealing with over the last week, then I probably shouldn’t have trusted a word he said.
“I’m sorry.” I laughed through my discomfort. “Why are you calling me instead of Liam?”
“Yes, to the point. Poor Liam has been through the wringer lately, and the network would love to put a smile on his face. Would you be interested in taking a trip to London?”
The first thing I thought of was how I wanted nothing more than to be with Liam during this crazy time. But then I remembered what Liam had said about it being best that I wasn’t there. “I mean, I would love to, but I don’t think that’s what Liam wants right now.”
“Nonsense,” Bart exclaimed. “Well, it’s meant to be a surprise, but by the way he speaks about you, I know he’ll be delighted to see you.”
“Won’t he be too busy?”
“Oh yes, he’ll be terribly busy, but with you by his side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. We’ll pay for your ticket, put you up in a hotel, take care of your room service, and arrange transportation to wherever you’d like to go.”
Bart’s offer was generous. More than generous. Maybe Bart wasn’t as bad of a guy as Liam thought. And after hearing Liam’s frustration this morning, all I wanted to do was be with him. The offer was more than tempting. Why should I sit back and wait for Liam? I was going to go to him.
33
Liam
The three days after my arrival became a monotony of recycled questions, vague answers, and a whole lot of wasted time—time I could have been spending with Chelsea and figuring out my next career move. In the rare moments of silence that fell on me between media appearances, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I could do once I fulfilled my contract with the network, when the chains were finally broken and I was free to live a life away from the camera’s eye.
Ever since my talk with Chelsea about the possibility of becoming a swim instructor and owning a tattoo shop, I’d felt excited about the future. It finally felt like a blank page ready to be written and filled with new dreams. Just a few more days of this madness, then it would be over for good.
I had to applaud myself. So far, I’d managed to stay on track giving everyone what they wanted—interviewers, fans of the show, and the network.
Bart proved to be useful in keeping my spirits up and reminding me that the press tour would all be over soon. And so far, even I was pleased with how well it was going.
My anxiety dwindled quickly over having to dig a little deeper while speaking to the media about Blake and how his tragedy had changed me as a man and as someone who sought love. It actually started to become cathartic to talk about. Yes, I’d had a rough time after his death, especially once my Olympic career had faded into the background after my injury. The media embraced my story and started to spin me in a completely different light.
We were currently in the back of the company-provided car, on our way to a late-night talk show, Good Evening with Hannah. Bart was prepping me with questions, as he always did, when I noticed something felt different.
“Why aren’t we sticking with our regular questions for this one?”
Bart looked up from his phone, where he was reading off the questions. “That happens after the same questions have been answered multiple times. It’s all normal. Interviewers who are doing their homework won’t want to put regurgitated questions out there, so they’ll change it up a bit. Nothing to worry about.”
Something still didn’t sit right. I waved it away as the nerves that came with going off script. I’d just gotten comfortable with the press tour. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Now it felt like I was teetering off balance, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Just be on your toes, and try to stay close to the answers we’ve already discussed. You’ll be fine.”
I shifted my gaze to the roof of the car and sighed. His instructions to be vague were getting boring, but I knew it was better than elaborating and opening the door to more questions.
As I looked out the window, disappointment only added to my growing anxiety. I wished I could ring Chelsea. She always had a special knack for putting my mind at ease. I needed that now more than ever. Instead, I thought about what time it would be back in Providence and tried to guess what she was doing. She was probably busy with the twins or working on her book or taking a swim in that saggy one-piece ensemble I loved so much.
Whatever it was, I hoped she would stay off social media as much as possible. When I saw her again, I wanted us to start with a clean slate.
We arrived at the back door of the building thirty minutes before my interview time, and I was rushed straight to a dressing room, where I was told to wait until someone came to get me. Looking around at the plain brown couch and vanity mirror against one wall, I felt like the room was more like a holding cell than a dressing room. They didn’t even have a television for me to watch the live filming.
Everything about the evening felt off, and I couldn’t shake the vibe as I downed
a bottle of water. After using the restroom and giving myself a once-over in the mirror, I jumped around a bit to try to shake my nerves. A quick tap on the door came twenty minutes later before it opened, and a man wearing a microphone on his head stepped into the room.
“Liam Colborn, you’re on deck.”
Bart clapped me on the back as I walked by him before he followed me out to the side stage, where we waited in the wings. A few minutes later, a video reel of my time on British Bachelor played, then the hosts were making my introduction to the audience. Just as the welcome applause started along with music from the live band, I was ushered out to the stage.
I put on my smile and waved to the crowd, the routine beginning to feel so natural it was almost robotic. Considering I was functioning on five hours of sleep, I was most certainly operating like a robot.
The questions started out the same as any other interview. Thankfully, the hosts were as funny as they were serious, and there was a good mixture throughout the start, but that feeling in my gut continued to gnaw away with every minute that ticked on.
“I have to say,” Hannah said, her body perfectly poised, her blond hair in a short bob around her head. “Your story is fascinating. Between the tragic loss of your brother, Blake, followed by your time in the Olympics that ended in a career-ending accident, you were so young and endured so much loss. I imagine that loss had to have tied into your time on the show.”
“Learning about death at such a young age hardened me some,” I admitted with a nod. “But instead of going down a darker path, avoidance was a coping mechanism that worked for me.” As I spoke the words, my heart tightened in my chest. Talking and thinking about my brother had always been difficult, but to explore those feelings with the entire world was something entirely different.
“Is that what swimming was to you? A way to cope?”
