“Liss, wait.” He grabs my arm but I pull free.
“No, Liam. What the hell are we doing? Pretending we can be together? This isn’t a movie. It’s my life. And I’m not a goddamn consolation prize.”
He exhales and takes a step back, his jaw tight and his hands fisted. “I’ve never thought of you as a consolation prize.”
“You said you didn’t want to be one of those assholes who thinks he can have it all, but that’s how you’re acting. You can’t have me and Angel. You just can’t.”
“Then I’ll end things with Angel.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
He steps forward and takes my hands. “I know the timing sucks, and I’m about six years too late, but . . .” The determination in his expression is unmistakable. “I want to be with you. Wait, that’s not right. I need to be with you.”
I push wet hair away from my face. “Liam, you’ve been drinking—”
“I’m not drunk. I’m actually thinking clearly for the first time in years. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Jesus, more than you could possibly know, but still—”
“Well, now you’re really selling it.”
He takes a breath and lets it out, then fixes me with a determined gaze. “I know I’m not saying the right things, but . . . God, Liss, I can’t live without you anymore, and I’m tired of pretending that I can.”
Despite the cold rain drenching every inch of skin, warm hope blossoms in my stomach—followed closely by a sick sense of dread. Now he wants me? He’s had years to do this and he hasn’t. I can’t help feeling like I’m an excuse to escape all the things in his life that aren’t working.
“Liam, you’re dealing with a lot of stuff right now. Rehearsals, a TV show, your wedding. Not to mention the anniversary of your brother’s death. Then, to top it all off, you have paps stalking your every move. I understand that you’re feeling . . . fragile . . . or whatever, and I’m here to support you however I can, but this—?”
“You think I’m saying this because I’m . . . what, stressed? Having some sort of breakdown? Jesus, Liss, no.”
“I think if you truly couldn’t live without me, you’d have found that out years ago, and yet this is the first I’m hearing of it.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but I can’t. “I heard nothing from you, Liam. Not a text, or e-mail. Not a goddamn word.”
“You don’t know the whole story, and I can’t tell you everything now. But can you honestly say you don’t want more after that kiss? Because I sure as hell can’t.”
I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “This is insane!” I don’t realize how much panic has leaked into my voice until I see the hurt on his face.
He doesn’t let go of my hands, but his grip loosens. “Why are you fighting this? I thought this is what you wanted. Me. Us.”
I want to say I don’t, because that’s the less scary option, but I can’t. Of course this is what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted. But it doesn’t feel real. Or right. I’m used to wanting Liam, but having him is another matter. Even now, despite all his declarations, I don’t see how it’s possible. It’s like we’re at opposite ends of a maze, and he’s saying he can see the exit while I’m still staring at a dead end.
I watch water run down his chest, and clench my jaw against the hopelessness I feel.
He cups my face with both hands and forces me to look up at him. “Liss, the night you went dress shopping with Angel, you sobbed in my arms because I was marrying someone else, and that slayed me. I didn’t realize how much my actions have hurt you, and every day I stay with Angel, I hurt you more. I can’t keep doing it. I won’t.”
“Liam, you’re talking about turning your whole world upside down.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Angel—”
“Will be better off without me. She might not see it like that at first, but eventually she will. She deserves someone who can love her as much as I lo—”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it. Please.”
He kisses my palm before pulling my hand away. “It’s true. Why not say it?”
“Because if you do, I’m going to do things I’ll regret, and I’m trying to be the voice of reason here.” I wipe water o my face and sigh. “Please don’t make this decision now. Not in the heat of the moment. Go home. Cool off. Then, tomorrow, if you haven’t changed your mind—”
He steps forward. “I’m not going to change my mind. That would imply being with you is a choice. It’s not. I’ve tried to forget about you. To stay away from you. Every single time, I’ve failed. You know that. Fighting what I feel for you is exhausting, and I can’t do it anymore. But the big question is, do you want this?” He takes my hand and weaves his fingers through mine, and the hope on his face melts me. “After all this time, and everything I’ve done . . . do you still want me?”