I look at our hands. “It would be so messy.”
“I know. But if we can finally be together, it would be worth it.”
I look up into his eyes. “Yeah. It would.” He smiles, and even though the rain is still drenching us, I feel like I’m standing in full sun.
I smile back at him, then shake my head at how sappy I must look. “You still need to sleep on it. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He leans down and gives me a soft, slow kiss. “I have some things to work out on my end, but this is going to happen. Trust me.”
I pull away, and even though I’m trying like hell to not get my hopes up, the way he’s smiling at me is making that impossible.
I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “I’m heading home. If you figure out how to look Angel in the eye tomorrow after everything that’s just happened, let me know. I’ll be the one neck-deep in a shame spiral.”
I’m almost at the end of the alley when he says, “Liss?” I turn to face him and see that, though the rain has slowed, his hair is still dripping onto his face. “No matter what happens, don’t feel guilty about this. I initiated it. Blame me, not yourself.”
I shake my head. “It takes two people to kiss like that, Liam. I’m as guilty as you.” I turn away from him and trudge to the subway station. My guilt churns through me all the way home.
Later, when I crawl into bed, I dream about a future in which Liam is mine—mind, body, heart, and soul. Even with a troubled conscience, they’re the most beautiful dreams I’ve ever had.
FIFTEEN
SCANDALOUS
Liam and I are making love when something impinges on my consciousness.
It’s a song. Tinny and far away.
I try to ignore it.
Liam lifts me until I’m straddling him, and his face melts into pure adoration as I ride him.
“What’s that noise?” he asks, as he grips my hips and urges me to move faster.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Fuck me.”
He flips me onto my back and takes over by pressing my wrists into the bed. He thrusts, hard and deep.
“God, Liam . . .”
“I’ve been fantasizing about this since yesterday in the alley. Nothing feels as good as being inside you.”
He increases his pace. Grabs my leg and pulls it up to his waist. Slides home, time and again.
God, the pleasure. The all-consuming, spine-tingling pleasure.
“Ohhhhh . . . Liaaaaaam . . .”
“Hey, Mona McMoany. Answer your phone.” Then someone’s shaking me. “Lissa! Wake up!”
I sit up with a start, still in the throes of my dream. Josh is sitting on my bed with my ringing phone in his hand.
I take a quick look at the clock. . 4.45 a.m.
“Who the hell is calling at this hour?”
“It’s Mary. Please answer it. It’s been ringing for five minutes.”
I take the phone. “Mary?”
“Finally! Where have you been?”
I rub my face. “Sleeping. What else do you expect at this hour?”
“Well, get up,” she says. “We’re having an emergency production meeting. Meet us in the conference room as soon as you can.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“The shit’s about to hit the fan is what’s going on. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
She hangs up without signing off. A ball of lead falls into my stomach.
Oh, Liam. You did it, didn’t you? You’ve broken up with Angel and told everyone about us. Shit.
I throw my covers back and get out of bed. “Come on, Josh. We have to go.”
“Why?”
“Reasons. Move it.”
Thirty minutes later we enter the conference room. The whole production team is there, as well as Angel and Liam. Angel looks like she’s been crying. Liam looks like he wants to murder someone.
Oh, hell. This is really happening. He told her. I honestly didn’t think he would.
I’ve dreamed about what it would be like to have Liam choose me too many times to count, but not once did I think it would be in such a public way. I sneak a glance at Mary and Marco. They don’t seem mad at me. Why don’t they seem mad?
Next to Liam, Anthony Kent shuffles a stack of magazines in front of him. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. We have a situation that needs to be resolved, so let’s all get on the same page before a shitstorm of epic proportions lands firmly in our laps.”
He passes around the magazines. When one lands in front of me, my mouth goes dry, which is remarkable considering I want to vomit.
The front cover shows a grainy image of Liam kissing a girl. In an alley. In the rain. The angle of the picture hides my face, and my wet hair looks more brown than blond, but still: It’s me. The headline reads, EXCLUSIVE SCANDAL! HOLLYWOOD LOVE RAT CAUGHT IN ALLEY CLINCH! Underneath is the caption, “Trouble in paradise for America’s Sweethearts? Cheating Liam Quinn seduces mystery brunette in NYC.”
“Oh, shit,” Josh says beside me. He shoots me a sideways glance. He suspects.
“Shit, indeed,” Mary says as she takes off her glasses and cleans them.