Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Liam.”
At this, he slowly turns his head to look at me. I think I know the answer. The second our eyes meet, I think I get it.
“You’re taking the job, aren’t you?”
This time when he blinks, his lashes are wet with tears. He shrugs, and something inside my chest cracks. I move to stand between him and the window, facing him, cupping his jaw in my hands. “Isn’t there another way? Do you have to go work for him?”
Liam doesn’t answer but takes a long, defeated breath.
“No one needs that much money,” I tell him. “Your siblings definitely don’t.”
He nods in agreement. He swallows thickly, pursing his lips to get his emotions under control. “He’ll retire soon. I’ll only have to deal with him for a few years.”
“What did he do to you, Liam? Is that this mysterious Pisa thing?” I admit, I googled it, and found nothing. At least, nothing that sounds like a scandal. Pages and pages of information on the Leaning Tower of Pisa or an international student assessment exam, and nothing about an American family scandal. Whatever it is, it’s been buried online. “I know your dad screwed you over somehow. I know you took the blame for something, and that it was bad enough for you to want out, but I have no idea what it was. Why won’t you just tell me?”
He shakes his head, bringing his hands up to my wrists to gently guide my arms down. “Pisa is… it’s just a stupid fucked-up thing in the past. It’s what caused the rift with us, but it’s only one of many reasons I don’t want to work with him.” He inhales deeply and then blows his breath out. “I have to talk to my lawyers. I have to figure it out. When we get back to California, I’ll bring you to my place. We’ll sit down and I’ll tell you everything. But right now, I just need figure out what happens next. Can you trust me?”
Words bubble up in my throat. I can’t go back to your place; I have to find a job. I don’t want to sit with this until we get back. I want to know now. I swallow them down, wanting to do and be whatever he needs right now, but inside, I am a mess. I hate this. And as much as I hate to admit it to myself, I’m deeply uneasy. Uneasy with the thought of remaining connected to the Westons via Liam. Uneasy with him making such a terrible decision all in the name of money. Uneasy with the intrusive feeling that maybe I don’t know him at all.
“I can,” I say carefully, “but I don’t like this.”
He nods, never once looking away. “I know.”
Across the room, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. “I’m going to get that. I’ll be right back.”
It’s Mel. “Hello?”
“Hey, lady! I have some amazing news.”
I close my eyes, turning to sit at the edge of the bed. I look down at my pink-tipped toes on the cream carpet, trying to anchor myself. Emotional whiplash is the name of the game these days. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“Two things: one, the gallery wants another five paintings from you.”
I straighten. “Oh my God, what?”
“And two, there’s a gallery here in Los Angeles that also wants to feature two of your pieces.”
I cup a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes closed. It must be the cocktail of emotions in my meager body, because it’s my turn to cry. I feel tears rise up and spill down my cheeks.
“Anna?” she asks.
“I’m here,” I choke, and at the sound, Liam whips around, coming to kneel at my feet.
“What happened?” he mouths, his light brown eyes round and worried.
I shake my head, mouthing back, “It’s okay. It’s good,” and then say to Mel, “I’m just a little in shock.”
“I bet you are,” she says, laughing. “This is how it all starts.”
“So seven in total?” I ask, and Liam leans in, mouthing more insistently. “What is it?” His fingers absently skim up and down my legs.
After Mel answers yes, I cup a hand over the phone and whisper to Liam, “The gallery wants more paintings. And there’s another gallery in LA that wants some, too.”
He beams up at me, squeezing my calves in his hands, and it feels so good to see that smile on his face. I reach forward, tracing his lower lip.
“When do you get home?” she asks.
“Like in an hour,” I say, laughing, “because the math involved in traveling to and from Asia is make-believe.”
Mel laughs at this. “Okay, well, call me as soon as you’re settled so we can get this sorted.”
“I will.”
“Hopefully people will get to see them this time,” she says, laughing.
“Right?” I say, laughing back, and then my joy is turned briefly on its side. I think I’ve misheard her. “Wait—what do you mean?”