SIXTEEN
LOVE AND LOBSTERS
Fresh from a hot shower and wrapped in my favorite robe, I flop onto the couch and turn on my phone. Immediately, a slew of message alerts rings out. Most of the numbers I don’t recognize, so I figure they’re reporters and ignore them. When I see that Liam’s tried to call me fifteen times, I grip the phone so hard, I almost crack the glass. I throw the phone onto the couch and head into the kitchen. There’s only half a bottle of red wine left, but my name is written all over it. I don’t even bother with a glass.
After taking a giant swig, I go back to the couch and turn on the TV. Of course, the first thing that comes on is an entertainment show about the Angeliam scandal.
“Geez, Universe,” I mutter at the screen. “I usually like some foreplay before I’m fucked this thoroughly. You could at least buy me dinner.”
I sit there like a zombie and watch as the media circus covers the scandal. It’s the Angeliampocalypse, complete with teary fan interviews, Hollywood insiders speculating about the future of the golden couple, and an actual graph predicting how much retail sales of Rageheart will suffer or soar if they split. They’ll soar, by the way.
I don’t even know why I’m watching. Stupidity? Sick curiosity? Flat-out masochism? After trusting Liam again, I guess I deserve punishment.
On the screen, Angel and Liam emerge from our rehearsal building and face the barrage of yelling reporters and flashbulbs. They’re holding hands. Liam looks gorgeous and contrite. Angel looks gorgeous and devastated. Liam says everything Anthony told him to. He’s on the verge of tears the whole time, which leads me to believe he’s either genuinely sorry for his actions or needs to win a damn Oscar in the near future.
I hate how choked up I get when he says, “For my whole life, I’ve only loved one woman. And I’m sickened that my thoughtless and selfish actions have hurt her. I can only hope that one day, she’ll understand I just want to be with her, and find a way to forgive me.”
He looks right through the camera when he says it, and his performance is so sincere and touching that by the end, even I’m rooting for him and Angel to make it through this clusterfuck.
Jesus Christ, I need more wine.
I take two big mouthfuls, then flip the channel over to a rerun of Friends. Phoebe is explaining how Rachel and Ross are soul mates. “She’s your lobster,” she says to Ross. “It’s a known fact lobsters fall in love and mate for life. You can actually see old lobster couples walking around their tank, holding claws.”
I wonder what Phoebe would say if I told her that my lobster didn’t pick me. He’s decided to stay with the gorgeous redheaded lobster whose legs are longer than my whole body. So, do I get to choose another lobster now, or is that it? I’m to go through life forever lobsterless?
Without warning, tears well up and spill onto my cheeks. I swipe them away impatiently. “Fuck you and lobsters everywhere, Phoebe. Fuck . . . you.”
I don’t know how long I wallow and stare at the television. Long enough to finish the wine, anyway. I’m considering going out to buy more when there’s a knock at the door.
Dammit. Josh forgets his key more often than he remembers it. Guess Angel didn’t need him to console her after all.
I stomp over to the door and pull it open. “You’re hopeless, you know that—?”
Instead of Josh, Liam’s standing there, looking more wretched than I feel, if that’s possible.
“Liss, you have to know that—”
“Go home.”
I try to close the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Wait. Let me explain.”
“No need. You’ve made your feelings clear. It was a mistake. It meant nothing.”
“Please, just listen to me—”
“I’m done listening to you, Liam! The only thing listening to you ever got me was hurt. Why the hell do you keep coming back to torture me? You made your choice, and it’s not me. Again! I get it!”
“No, you don’t! That’s the trouble. This situation is complicated.”
“Oh, really? Because it seems pretty simple: You’re an asshole. And I’m an idiot for believing you. I thought I knew every douche line out there, but you had me totally fooled.”
“I wasn’t feeding you a line! I meant every word I said to you yesterday. I want to be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“How stupid do you think I am? You just stood in front of the world and reaffirmed your love for your fiancée!”
He slaps his hands against the door frame so hard it makes me jump. “No I didn’t! I don’t have a fiancée! I have a fucking contract that forces me to pretend to be engaged to Angel, but that’s it! Our relationship is manufactured bullshit!”
He’s so worked up he’s panting, and my heart is pounding so furiously it takes a moment for me to understand what I’ve just heard. When it sinks in, a flash of anger runs up my spine. “What?!”
He steps forward, but if he touches me right now, I don’t know what I’ll do. I turn and walk to the far side of the living room.
“Everything I just said at the press conference,” he says, his voice softer as he watches me with wary eyes. “All of that stuff about only ever having loved one woman in my whole life. It was about you. God, Liss. Don’t you understand? It’s only ever been you.” He stares at me, as if he’s waiting for me to explode. I don’t. I’m too shell-shocked to even move, apart from hugging the wine bottle so tightly to my chest it hurts. When the silence becomes uncomfortable, he comes inside and gently closes the door. Then he just stands there for a few seconds, one hand on the handle, his other hanging limply at his side.
“When I got home last night,” he says, staring at the floor, “Anthony was waiting with those photos. A friend of his at TMZ had tipped him off they were about to hit, and he was pissed. Seriously pissed. Can’t say I blamed him. What I did with you was stupid. Not the kissing part, because I couldn’t regret that if you put a gun to my head. But doing it out in the open? That was dumb. After the thing at Jamie’s grave, I should have known I was being followed, that that asshole from the bar would have been on us the moment we stepped into the street.”
He rubs his face. “Anthony kept drilling me about your identity. Said that if we threw you to the wolves, it would take some of the heat off me. Of course, there was no way in hell I was going to do that, so I denied everything, even though it killed me.” He looks over at me, regret coloring every feature. “Anthony’s been watching me like a hawk all day, making sure I didn’t do anything to make it worse. That’s why I didn’t warn you. Just before the press conference, I snuck out to the bathroom to try to call you and explain, but your phone was off. I’m so sorry.”
I suddenly know how Alice must have felt on the other side of the looking glass. I feel like I’m in Bizarro World. This is completely surreal. “But, you and Angel—”
“Aren’t engaged. We never have been. We’ve never even had sex. The whole thing was set up to generate publicity.”
He watches me carefully. Gauging my reaction. I don’t know how long I stand there, disbelief all over my face. It must be a while because eventually he says, “Jesus, Liss. Please say something. Anything. Just . . . react.”
I take a breath as I attempt to process it all. I can’t. It’s so ridiculous, my brain has seized. “So you’ve been lying? To me? To the entire world? For years?”
“Elissa, I’m sorry.”
Incredulity floods my body, followed by fury. Suddenly, I have a lot to say, and all of it is accompanied by huge messy emotions that make my voice loud and my cheeks wet. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? How devastated I was six years ago when I saw pictures of you and Angel together? How much you hurt me today when it seemed you were choosing her all over again? And now you’re telling me it was all a goddamn publicity stunt?!” I slam the wine bottle down on the table so hard, Liam flinches.
As I try to calm down, he stands there, guilt and regret filling his eyes. When he steps forward, I step back. He puts his hands out like he’s trying to placate a wild animal.
“When I was offered Rageheart,” he says, patiently, “the producers told me I had to agree to their bullshit fauxmance or lose the job. I wanted to tell them to shove it, but I needed that movie to get Mom and Dad out of debt. After all the lawsuits, they were drowning. Anthony assured me this sort of thing happens all the time and would be over before I knew it, so I agreed.” He looks at the ground. “I couldn’t tell you. The nondisclosure contract was brutal. Plus, I was ashamed. I’d sold out in the biggest way possible, and I knew it.”
“That’s a piece-of-shit excuse, Liam! You loved me and I loved you. We could have made it work.”
His shoulders fall. “No, we couldn’t. Can you truly say you would have been happy sneaking around behind the scenes while I pretended Angel was the love of my life? You would have felt like a dirty secret. And after a while, you would have resented me for it.”
“So, instead, you decided to rip my heart out? Use my worst fear against me?”
He swallows and drops his head. “I knew signing that contract meant hurting you, and losing you, but my parents had been struggling for years. It was starting to take a toll on my dad’s health. And the families of those who died in the accident were struggling, too. I felt like I owed them, for Jamie’s sake. In some sick way, I thought the good outweighed the bad. I knew you and I would be miserable, but I also knew that a lot of other people would get the help they needed.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “God, Liam—”
“That’s why I stopped calling you. I tried to prepare myself for what was coming. Angel and I were tipped off that a photographer was following us, so we played our part. I didn’t warn you because . . . well, I thought maybe a clean break would be easier for both of us.”
“Easier?” I laugh at that. “You told me you loved me! Why would you do that when you knew you couldn’t be with me?”
“I didn’t know then. They told me about the contract the day after I called you, and . . . when I heard, I felt sick. Even after I’d made up my mind to sign it, I fooled myself into believing our separation would only be temporary. That when it was all over, I could beg your forgiveness, and we’d get another shot. But then, one movie turned into two, and two into four. The whole thing with Angel turned into this massive publicity gold mine, and no matter how miserable she and I were with the arrangement, the producers wouldn’t even discuss breaking the contract. They convinced us the franchise would die if we broke up before the final movie. Everyone who worked on those films had become like our family. If our actions shut it all down, then it would be like the construction accident, all over again. I couldn’t live with the guilt of jeopardizing any more livelihoods. Ruining more lives. So we kept going. Then this play came along, but they only wanted us as a package deal. We both wanted to do it, so our purgatory continued.”
I think about the hundreds of photographs of Liam and Angel over the years. In cafés. On vacations. Movie premieres. Music festivals. I can imagine how their fans will feel when they find out it’s all a sham. It’s how I’m feeling right now. Duped. Betrayed. More than a little stupid.
“I believed you two were in love,” I say, trying to keep calm. “The way you looked at her. Held her. Kissed her . . .” My voice breaks and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.
“Liss, I’m sorry. Our public displays were no different from any other performance, except we improvised the lines. I did my job, and I did it well. None of it was real. How could it be?” He walks over to me slowly. “I’ve never stopped loving you. From the day we met, you’ve been the only one for me. There’s never been anyone else.”
I cross my arms over my chest. There’s an ache in there that’s pushing against my rib cage. A mixture of incredulity and disappointment. But there’s also that little spark of hope that’s been smothered for so long, it can’t decide whether this new information is going to kill it, or shock it back to life.
Liam watches me, and those remarkable eyes are filled with such pain, I have to look away. “Liss . . .” He goes to touch me, but I pull back.
I shake my head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Any of it.” Tears are falling now. It would hurt too much to try and stop them.
I cross to the other side of the room and stare at the bookcase. He doesn’t follow, but when I look back at him, his eyes are wet, too.
“I wanted to tell you the truth so many times over the years, but what would be the point? Even if I did, I couldn’t be with you. Not with my life how it is. Every damn day I witness what Angel goes through because people think she’s with me. The hate. The bullying. The constant scrutiny and criticism. It eats at her, Liss, even though she’s been dealing with that kind of crap since she was a kid. How could I possibly drag you into all that? I loved you too much to even consider it.”
“Then why say those things yesterday? Why give me hope that we could be together?”
“Because even though it’s selfish as hell to want you in my insane life, I finally realized that by trying to spare you, I’ve damned you to be just as miserable as I am.”
We stare at each other, and I feel like I’m being pulled toward him and pushed away at the same time. So many emotions are twisting through me, I can’t make sense of them all.
“My beautiful Liss.” He steps forward. “Please say you can forgive me. I keep thinking about what will happen when this show ends. Unless I fix things, we’ll go back to our separate lives, me in California and you here, and . . .” He grips his chest. “Fuck. Every time I imagine that, it hurts so much I want to put my fist through a wall.” He clenches and releases his hand, and I can feel his tension filling the space between us. “Ask me to give up a limb and I swear, I’ll find a way to do it. But don’t ask me to live without you anymore. I can’t. I’m so goddamn in love with you, it hurts.”
For so long, I’ve dreamed about Liam Quinn standing in front of me, telling me he loves me. In every single one of those fantasies he looked at me like he is now, with obvious, unashamed love. But fantasies don’t prepare you for reality. Even though I always thought I’d run into his arms, and cover him in kisses, in actual fact there’s more than just him and me to think about. Even if I get past his deception, there’s Angel, and the show, and the millions of fans who will be heartbroken when they hear their idol loves a short, blond stage manager instead of their ethereal goddess of the silver screen.
I wipe my face. “What about the contract? Aren’t you and Angel still bound by it?”
He doesn’t move forward, but it’s clear he wants to. “Screw the contract. I’ve made more money than I ever imagined, and I’m miserable. The only thing I truly want can’t be bought. The studio is welcome to sue me down to my last dollar. As long as I have you, I’ll be the richest man on earth.”
I stare at him as everything he’s just said rumbles around in my brain. On one hand, our situation is so unbelievable I want to laugh, but on the other, the deepest parts of me are whispering that everything finally makes sense. For years I’ve felt wrong. As if I were a stranger in my own life. I’ve always known it was because of him, but I lived in denial. Pretending I wasn’t hollow without him became a way of life. And it seems he was feeling exactly the same way.
Now, we have the opportunity for a second chance, but I have no idea how that would work. His world is full of movie premieres and parties. Beauty and glamor. I spend most of my time in the dark. I’m the person who controls the spotlight, not the one standing in it. In the words of an ancient Chinese proverb, it’s all very well for the bird and the fish to fall in love, but where will they make their home?
“Liss?” When I look at him, there’s real fear in his expression. He’s terrified I’m going to turn him down. He should be. “I understand this is a lot to process, and I know how angry you are with me. And I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to go screw myself and never come near you again. But before you do that, please, just tell me this: Do you believe that I love you?”
“Yes.” I say it without thinking. Maybe that’s the best way to deal with my emotional turmoil. God knows my head and my heart are tying me in knots. Perhaps I should just trust my gut.
I look Liam in the eye. He understands, and his whole posture changes. As if he’s holding himself back from following his instinct to show me how he feels rather than tell me.
He takes a breath before he says, “Okay, then. Million-dollar question: Do you love me?”
He doesn’t breathe for the three seconds it takes me to make up my mind to be honest. “Despite everything, and even though I’d like to hit you right now . . . yes. Very much.”
The moment I say it, he clenches his jaw, and I can tell he’s trying to keep himself together. I know how he feels. This is a turning point for us, and I’m running on so much adrenaline, my skin feels too small for my body.
“Liss,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “I know I have a lot of work to do to make up for how much I’ve hurt you, but . . . do you still want us to be together?”
I have one of those moments where everything other than him retreats into the background and he comes into perfect focus. Beautiful, hopeful Liam.
He swallows hard before continuing. “Think carefully about your answer, because if you say ‘yes’ . . .” He swears quietly under his breath. “If you say ‘yes,’ I will never be dishonest with you again. I will never trust my head over my heart again. And I will finally be able to show you the infinite ways I love you.”
There are several yards between us, but right now, it feels like there’s a steel cable connecting his heart to mine. It’s always been there. But now, I’m able to see it as a blessing rather than a curse.
I take a breath and undo the tie on my robe with trembling hands. The heavy fabric falls open, revealing my distinct lack of underwear.
His eyes widen, and his expression immediately turns ravenous. My body responds with an explosion of goose bumps.
“Yes. I want to be with you. Please. Now.”
He blinks twice before he mutters, “Fuck, yes.” Within seconds he’s crossed the room, and he makes a low, possessive sound as he crushes me against him.
Six years of stifled desire and sexual frustration erupts between us. We devour each other, tongues tasting and sucking. My robe is pushed off my shoulders. His shirt is unbuttoned in record time. Everywhere he touches me, pleasure blooms, lush and bright, and I’m breathless with the power of it. I push him back against the wall, hard. The force of the impact causes a nearby picture frame to crash to the floor. Neither of us spares it a glance. He throws his head back as I cover his chest and stomach with hot kisses, tasting the skin I’ve been able to do nothing but dream about for far too long. His muscles contract in time with his rapid breathing, and he groans when I run my tongue and lips over the delicious planes of his chest. I taste every inch of skin . . . his nipples, his abs. There’s nothing delicate or elegant about what we’re doing. Everything is urgent, hands moving and squeezing, breaths heavy and moans long. We’re so desperate for each other, we’re clumsy and rough.
When I come back to his mouth, he moans against my lips and trails his hands down to my ass. With one swift motion, he lifts me, and when I wrap my legs around him he turns and shoves me up against the bookcase. Books and knickknacks spill noisily onto the floor as we press and grind. I reach behind me and hold on to one of the shelves as he kisses down my neck and teases my nipples. I throw my head back and press my chest up to meet him as his hot, beautiful mouth closes around me.
“Oh, God, Liam . . .”
He works my breasts until I’m clawing at him to give me more. Then, he yanks me away from the bookcase and strides over to the couch, knocking over a vase and a floor lamp on his way. He shoves the coffee table with his foot, and the TV remote and a pile of magazines clatter onto the floor.
“Fuck,” he says, panting. “Sorry.”
“Don’t care,” I say. “Keep going.”
He collapses onto the couch and pulls me forward to straddle him. Every inch of my skin tingles and aches as he traces the curves of my breasts and hips with his fingers.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my skin. “This body, your mind, your heart. All of it. Right now, I feel like a kid who’s had his Christmas present on layaway for six years and has finally gotten his hands on it. You’re so freaking perfect, you blow my mind.”
He kisses me again, and his sweet tongue makes me dizzy while his hands set every nerve ending on edge. I can’t wait anymore. The only thing that registers through my haze of hormones is an all-consuming need to have him inside me. To claim him as mine again and have him claim me in return.
I climb off his lap so I can undo his jeans. He helps me by pulling off his shoes and socks. Then he stands so I can work his jeans and underwear down his legs.
When he’s naked, I have to take a moment, because . . . God. Seriously? He’s a walking work of art. If Michelangelo had Liam Quinn as a model, I have no doubt there’d be a whole gallery dedicated to him. Maybe even with a wing just for his spectacular erection.
Liam sits back down on the couch and stares at me with barely restrained desperation. “Come here.”
He pulls me down to straddle him, and I use one hand to align us. I look into his eyes as I slowly sink down.
Oh.
Dear.
God.
Both our mouths drop open. Our eyelids flutter. Simultaneous groans fill the apartment as I rock and tilt until he fills me. When we’re fully joined at last, I gasp, then sigh. How I can feel so incredibly wired and relieved in the same moment is beyond me. This is what I’ve been missing for all of these years. Not just the physical pleasure of having him inside me, but the soul-heart connection that joining with him brings. We stare at each other in wonder, in mutual recognition of the fact that even the most vivid fantasies we’ve had while we’ve been apart pale in comparison to the spine-tingling reality.
“I love you, Liss,” he whispers as he grazes my face with gentle fingers. “I love you so much.”
I kiss him. “I love you, too.”
I clasp my hands behind his neck and start to ride him, keeping eye contact the whole time. He grasps my hips and guides me into long, deep thrusts. The sensation is so intense, it’s almost unbearable. The feel of him. The incredible expression on his face as he watches my every move. Every time I lift my hips he grunts like he’s in pain. When I sink back down, he moans with pleasure. Every movement seems too much for him, and I understand how he feels. After having nothing for so long, suddenly having everything is a shock to the system.
We keep that connection the whole time we make love. Even when I can feel my orgasm building, I don’t look away. Neither does he.
I brace myself on his shoulders as I increase my tempo. When my thigh muscles give out, he takes over from below. He thrusts, filling me, over and over again. My orgasm builds quickly, coiling and stretching so tight, I can barely breathe.
I grip his hair as his movements become faster, more intense. He clenches his jaw and groans, as if holding off his own orgasm is painful.
God, the pleasure. The debilitating, breath-stealing pleasure.
When he comes, the noise that pours out of him is beyond passionate. It speaks of a man who’s forgotten the extent to which he can feel. Of someone rediscovering how to be real after so many years of pretending.
I make a similar sound when my climax explodes a few seconds later. It’s not delicate or pretty, but neither are my feelings about Liam. They’re giant, messy, and inconvenient, but I wouldn’t give them up for anything.
As our final shudders fade, I collapse onto him, and he wraps his arms around me to bury his head in my neck. Our frantic breathing echoes in the quiet apartment, and we don’t move for a long time. When we do stir, it’s only because he’s hard again, and our second wind ends up turning into a hurricane. Chairs are knocked over. The bathroom door is dented. By the time we retreat into my bedroom, books are all over the floor, plates and bowls have been shoved off kitchen counters, and cushions and clothes litter every inch of the floor. The entire apartment is trashed.
Usually, we both despise mess, but right now, we’re too high on each other to care.
After Liam gives me the second orgasm in my bed and the fourth for the night, he collapses onto his back and pulls me onto his chest. He releases a huge satisfied sigh, then closes his eyes. I know we need to talk more about our bumpy road to being together, but all that can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I just want to enjoy being wrapped in the arms of my soul mate.
“Liam?” I whisper, as his breathing evens out.
“Hmmmm?” He’s barely conscious.
I can’t help but smile as I listen to the hypnotic rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. “Thank you for being my lobster.”