Текст книги "My Kind of Forever"
Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Leaning against the wall, I stare out the large window at the active nightlife below me. All night I’ve been trying to get ahold of Josie. Each time my text messages have gone unanswered and my phone calls end up going to voicemail. Logic would say to call our house phone, but that would require us to buy a landline phone and we haven’t done that yet. The phone line is used strictly for our alarm system.
Calling Katelyn was out of desperation. I didn’t know what else do to, except call Nick, and I wasn’t going to do that. I would’ve flown home before I dialed his number and asked him to go check on my wife. Call me stubborn or stupid, either way it wasn’t going to happen.
Now I stand here, worrying and wondering what the hell happened to my wife. A million thoughts run through my mind from a kidnapping, stranded on the side of the road without cell service, to a car accident. The latter is unlikely because someone would’ve called me, but I can’t stop the thoughts from being there.
I’ve stopped wondering if she was one of the bodies walking down the street, stopped imagining her face on every brunette I saw. I stopped thinking that she was miserable in her life because the truth is, she wasn’t until I came back. If I hadn’t, she’d be married to Nick. It pains me to think that she could’ve been his wife, but sometimes I wonder if he was the better choice.
Horns honk and police car lights create a swirling wonderment on the streets of Wilshire Blvd. The exclusive clubs are packed with today’s best – best actors, actresses, musicians and Hollywood royalty. That was my forced crowd – the one Sam insisted that I fit into. Being on my arm during a premiere was her glory, even though I hated taking her. I much preferred my fake girlfriends because I knew when the night was over I could do what I wanted. With Sam, I had to play by her rules for the night.
As I look around the living area of my penthouse, it’s like déjà vu. Everything is as I remember it, even if this wasn’t my apartment. What I remember the most is having Josie here, eating dinner across from me and introducing her to Liam Page. I knew the looks I was giving her affected her, and that she enjoyed it. She’s my best memory of this hotel, and the only one I want to think about.
The ding of my cell phone has me fishing it out of my pocket. Her name is backlit causing me to sigh heavily in relief. Opening her message, I read it quickly, trying to comprehend that she’s been home this whole time and is just tired. I haven’t spoken to her in over twelve hours and that is all she has to say to me?
I type out a quick “Let’s talk” and send it. I have an uneasy feeling about all of this and need to hear her voice.
Jojo: In a bit. I’m with Katelyn.
I stare at my phone in disbelief. A small wave of relief washes over me knowing she’s with Katelyn, but why the hell is she blowing me off? I pocket my phone and continue to stare out the window, letting the anger build. I don’t expect her to be at my beck and call, but I do have a certain expectation that she wants to talk to me. I know we’ve been apart before and maybe she’s already accustomed to the distance. If so, I’m not doing my job as her husband, not that I really know what I’m supposed to do other than love her. She has to know that she’s my world and that I’d do anything for her – the immensity of that scares me. I fear the day she asks me to quit being Liam Page because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do as she asks. But I won’t lose her either, not to the music side of my life.
The sun starts to rise, peaking over the horizon. It catches me off guard, causing me to squint and move away from the window. Where did the time go? It’s felt like only minutes have gone by while I’ve waited for Josie to call me, not what many people consider a full day. My steps are slow and deliberate as I walk into my bedroom. The king size bed holds no appeal to me, but sleep beckons. Spending hours waiting for a phone call while staring out a window can be draining. Not only is my body tired, but my mind is about to shut down. Long gone are the days of me pulling all-nighters that can last up to three days.
Falling onto the bed, I pull the pillow under me and hug it to my chest. It’s a void filler for the body that I wish I were holding instead. Hell, just to hear her voice right now would help my mind unwind and allow me to fall asleep. I wrangle my phone out of my pocket and hit the voice recorder. I say, “Jojo, I love you” and send her the file, hoping it will get her to call me. I need to hear that she loves me because right now I’m afraid I’m just fucking up right and left.
I startle awake at the sound of pounding. My eyes are shut tight and fighting to stay that way. Rolling over, I cringe when something hard hits me in the face. I search blindly for the object and the size alone tells me it’s my phone. Sitting up slowly, I swing my legs over to the edge and hold my pounding head in my hands. I open my eyes slowly and rub the sleep away. I can’t believe I fell asleep last night – or early this morning – whatever time it was. Reaching for my phone, I press the home screen but nothing happens.
“Fuck,” I yell, realizing that my phone is dead. I plug it into the charger sitting next to my bed and make my way to the door with the intent of maiming the person on the other side. I don’t bother to look in the peephole before opening it.
Big mistake.
Mr. Moreno doesn’t wait to be invited in; he pushes past me as if he owns the place. Knowing my luck, he probably does, which would explain the over eager escort waiting for me at the door when we arrived. For some reason I peer out into the hallway. I’m not sure if I’m looking for Sam, even though I know she’s gone, or trying to mentally prepare myself to flee my room.
I contemplate leaving the door open so I can make a run for it, but know Mr. Moreno can’t physically hurt me. Career-wise, he can destroy me and right now that’s not something I need to happen. Letting go of the door, it slams shut, but doesn’t even faze him. He’s looking at the faux art hanging on the walls. It’s the same on each floor, varying from room to room. I know this because JD had to come in and take a picture to show Jenna.
“I love what you’ve done with the place.” His sarcastic tone causes my heart to race. I hate that he has any power over me at all. When we settled in court, I thought that was the last I’d see of him and I am pretty sure our restraining order included him. It’s something I need to look into, especially since he’s making repeat appearances on our behalf.
“I seem to remember different art when you and Sam lived together.”
“We never lived together,” I bite back. “She stayed with me… briefly.”
He smirks and dismisses my statement with a wave of his hand. Mr. Moreno is a smart businessman, but personality-wise he’s always scared the shit out of me. Sam hinted once about having ties to the mob, which is common in old town Hollywood. Frank Sinatra did, so why wouldn’t someone like Moreno?
Glass is clanked together, catching me off guard. I shake my head and chide myself for losing focus while he’s here. Mr. Moreno has poured himself a drink, effectively charging up my wet bar. I’ll be sure to send him the bill for the incidentals when I get it. He wasn’t invited, and I’m definitely not willingly entertaining him.
“What do you want?” I ask, needing to get him out of here and out of my life for good. I sit on the edge of the cream colored chair, unwilling to get comfortable. He sits across from me. His left leg rests on his knee and his fedora is perched on the edge of the armrest. The amber colored scotch swirls as he drinks, prolonging his impromptu visit.
I refrain from getting angry because I think that’s what he wants. He knows anger fuels emotions, and he wants me to say something that is going to bind me to him. It’s not going to happen even if it’s the smartest thing for the band. If the band decides we want to re-sign with Moreno Entertainment, then we will make that decision together.
“You need me,” he says bluntly. He’s right; I do need –him – or someone like him. He’s a pit bull, a shark. People are afraid of him, including his clients. But he gets the job done, and that’s what the band needs, someone who is going to lead the path that we want to carve out for ourselves.
“Maybe it’s you who needs me.” I’m not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s there and flashing like a beacon in my eyes. Why is he so eager to have us back? We sued his company and won, wouldn’t that put a bad taste in his mouth? Unless of course, he’s trying to screw us, and that is definitely something I wouldn’t put past him.
He scoffs at my suggestion. I knew he would, but now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s the angle I’m taking.
“You’re pissing away your career. If you don’t want to be someone, let the kid go. He has potential.”
“Kid?” I question.
“The Davis boy. It’s in his genes to be on stage in front of sold out crowds. He knows this and is just biding his time with you.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Once again he dismisses me with his hand and a smirk. “Let me tell you this Liam, I am not anything like Sam. I don’t give a shit about whom you fuck behind your wife’s back or who you knock up. What I care about is making money and so do you. You know damn well that you were at the top of the charts until you decided to go back to Sleepy Hollow.”
He stands and places his half-full glass on the side table next to the chair. In one quick movement, his hat is on his head and he’s standing before me.
“You know I can take you to the top. Sam is gone, and no longer an issue. If you think I need you, you’re sadly mistaken, but I’m willing to right the wrongs that my daughter committed against you. Think about it, Page.” He leans closer and I can smell the scotch on his breath. “Millions of screaming women throwing their panties on stage for you, posting about you on social media and saying how they’d leave their husbands for you. Sold out tours across the country and dollars in your pocket. You can bring your little wife, or leave her at home and take a mistress. I don’t give a fuck. What I do care about is money and 4225 West has the potential to make all of us very rich.”
Mr. Moreno walks away, pulling the door open quickly. He turns and looks at me. “Before you make a decision, talk it over with the guys. Make sure they’re okay with you pussy footing around in your basement while their bank accounts are dwindling.”
The door slams on his way out, causing me to jump. I’m antsy and slightly freaking out. I don’t know how or why I’m so tongue-tied when he’s near... probably because he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing and right now I’m looking like his lunch.
The simple fact that he thinks it’s okay to cheat should be enough for me to tell him to take a flying leap off a cliff, but I know he’s right about one thing: This decision… any decision... needs to be made as a band. I fear Harrison and JD will want to sign, leaving me the lone man out.
I walk into my bedroom and grab my phone, pressing the home button and dialing Josie. In the past I’d turn to booze or women, but I don’t need that shit anymore.
I just need her.
I look down at my ringing phone to see Liam’s face light up my screen. My finger hovers over the talk button, but I can’t bring myself to press it. I’m not actually angry with him as much as I am with the whole situation. I knew we weren’t together and hadn’t been, but seeing our anniversary date as a happy occasion for Sam is painful. It’s as if he did everything he could to erase me from his life and, for the most part, he was successful. I know not to believe everything that I’ve read, but the excerpts from Sam’s diary hit a little harder for me because I’m sure, deep down, that most are true.
Katelyn’s been gone an hour, leaving me to get lost in my own mind. I wouldn’t let her peruse the novel because I didn’t know how she’d react to the part about Mason. Thinking back to Sam’s thoughts makes my stomach turn. I can’t imagine what it would do to Katelyn.
My phone dings with a voicemail from Liam. I know I’m not being fair, but I need time to decompress and absorb what I’ve read. If I tell Liam, he’ll either have excuses, or become angry with me because I’ve read this book. I’m sure he has no clue that it was delivered and is probably banking on the fact that I would never buy something like this. I don’t even look at the gossip sites or magazines because they’re out to make money off other people’s misery, which isn’t far from what this book is doing. I’m letting it affect me when I shouldn’t.
One of the passages that stood out the most was about his grandmother’s house. Picking up the book, I fan the pages, stopping and skimming until I come to a diary excerpt from Sam. The pages are full of them and they’re really the focal point of the story.
Liam’s grandmother has died. Her death has allowed him to lean on me more than he has been. I’ve been able to assert myself more and more since her passing and I think he appreciates it. He asked me to sell her house, or donate it. It’s his grief talking and even though he’s my client and I’m supposed to do what he says, I’m not. We can live there once he realizes we’re meant to be together.
“Meant to be together,” I say those words out loud, hoping they sound differently than what I’m hearing in my head. They don’t. In fact, they anger me. The fact that this woman thought Liam was meant for her pains me, rips my heart out, because it has me wondering if he’s meant for me. I have spent far too many nights in my life second-guessing Liam Westbury and I don’t want to do it now. He came back to me...
Or did he just come back for Noah?
Pushing away from the table, I storm upstairs and into my closet. My arm reaches for the pull cord to the attic, but I hesitate. I know he has boxes up there from his time in LA and maybe they yield something about me, about us. Did he keep journals? Did he write about me in side notes of songs he wrote while he was away?
I close my eyes and pull, fearful of what might fall down; the dust, spiders and who knows what else lives up there. The attic is Liam’s job. He stores our holiday decorations up there and brings them down when needed, along with other household items we want to save. It’s the catch all for anything we don’t want seen. I’ve only been up here a few times and as I climb the rickety ladder now I’m second-guessing myself. But I have to know if he ever felt anything for Sam, or if he ever thought about me while he was gone. He’s says he thought about me all the time, but the nagging suspicion reading this book has caused me won’t go away and I need it to.
The string to the light dangles in front of me as I climb the steps. It’s out of reach until I’m two or three steps from the top. I pull gently, afraid that if I pull too hard the frayed string will break and with Liam not home to fix it, my quest for answers will only continue.
Boxes line the walls. Each one of them marked with what’s inside. I trail my fingers along the lettering: Noah’s school work, baby clothes, sheet music, and records. This attic doubles as his storage space since the basement studio isn’t big enough. I start with the box labeled sheet music. Removing the lid, the papers are nice and orderly and blank. I pull that box down and look at the one behind it, continuing this unless I see something that makes sense to me.
After what seems like an hour, I look around and see that I’ve destroyed the clean attic. Boxes are everywhere, some missing their lids, and I’m no closer to finding something that will help me feel like Liam is where he wants to be. I don’t care if he didn’t say the words in that book. They were said and I have to know if they’re true.
A box titled “Grandma” catches my eye and I move quickly toward it. I hesitate before lifting the lid because I’m about to search through the belongings of a woman I didn’t know, a woman who took Liam away from me and is someone he loves dearly. He hardly speaks of her and when he does, he doesn’t divulge much. All I really know is she died – that’s it. I don’t know how or when. Maybe it’s her death that truly brought him home to me, not Mason’s funeral. I run my hand over the top of the box and grab it with both hands, setting it on the floor.
As I stare at the box, I notice that the cursive handwriting on it isn’t Liam’s and because of what I’ve recently read, I’m pretty sure it’s Sam’s. She was there when she died. She was the one to comfort him. She was the one to help him through the loss of someone he cared about deeply. I wasn’t given that chance. I know I seem bitter but I’m not, I’m just really angry.
The way I see it I can be angry with two dead people who can’t defend their actions now, or open this box and see what Grandma Betty can tell me. Hopefully, she’s the key to figuring everything out.
Removing the lid unveils a pile of papers and a few smaller boxes. Picking up the first stack of papers, I blow the dust off and unfold them. This is the deed to her house, and it’s in Liam’s name. Sam said in her diary that she didn’t sell the house like he had asked and it makes me wonder if it’s still there. Has it sat empty all this time?
The next section of papers reveals a death certificate. Its dated only months after he left me. My heart drops, beating a bit faster knowing I wasn’t enough to bring him back after his grandmother passed away. These are two things I now know from my investigation: Liam possibly still owns his grandmother’s house, and he lost her early on in his new career path.
Setting the certificate aside, I dig in and pull out a wooden box. The name “Betty” is engraved on the outside. Opening it reveals jewelry: Diamonds and rubies. Sizes of rings I’ve only seen in stores are sitting there and in need of some serious attention.
The next box holds pictures. I immediately recognize Bianca. My finger trails down the image, mesmerized by her beauty. Her dark hair is pulled up high, and she’s wearing a light colored dress with the most vibrant smile. I’ve never seen her smile like this, but would like to. I think Noah and Liam deserve to see the sparkle she has in her eyes in this picture shine for them.
I look inside the box and see that I have another wooden box and a folder left to look through. I wish I could say I’m satisfied with what I’m finding, but I’m not. Liam should have this stuff out on display, or locked away for safekeeping.
The other wooden box is engraved with “Charlie” and I’m guessing that belongs to his grandfather. I run my fingers over the letters and think that Charlie would make a great name for our newest addition. I had thought Liam would suggest Mason, but he hasn’t said anything yet and I may offer up Charlie as an option.
Opening the box reveals an old folded piece of paper. I carefully unfold and read the words meant for someone else.
My Dearest Betty,
Death knocks on my door, and yet you stay by my side. I should’ve never left you and Bianca. I was stupid, selfish and thought the grass would be greener on the other side. I was wrong. Being away from you was a mistake and one I’ll never be able to change. The only thing I can do, is make sure you’ll always be taken care of. Someday I hope that you forgive me for wronging you the way I did.
Love, Charlie
I wipe away the tears before they hit the paper and find myself needing to scream at love lost, yet again, because of foolish mistakes and death. Liam never knew his grandfather and his grandmother weren’t allowed to see him. Life shouldn’t be this way. At the end of the letter is a bank and routing number. It’s all Charlie wanted, to take care of his one true love. I fold the letter up and press it to my heart. Charlie’s wedding ring, watch and pocketknife are the only things left in the box aside from a few pictures of Betty and Bianca.
The folder is heavy when I pick it up and I can easily deduce that it’s full of paper. I close my eyes and pray this will have what I’m looking for. I undo the clasp which falls apart in my hand. It’s not old, just over used. I pull out the stack of papers. My heart catches in my throat as I gulp for air. I flip through the pages and pages of notes, all in Liam’s handwriting. I don’t understand why they’re in this box. Why would they be in a box for his grandparents and not for him? The pages are dated, and in order, starting with the day he left.
All she had to do was hold me.
Tell me everything would be okay.
Her words – they broke me and yet she cries.
I remember that day vividly. I don’t need a reminder.
She hates me, but I love her.
I want to tell her.
Call her.
Beg her.
Her voice will break me.
Shatter me.
I said the one thing to end it.
Josephine.
The sob escapes before I can control it. My lips tremble as tears rush down my face, my breathing labored. Each inhale is painful, and it feels as though I can’t exhale because I can barely catch my breath. I let it all out, screaming loudly until my throat is dry and scratchy. The tears won’t stop, and I don’t expect them to as long as I’m reading his words.
She wants to get married, but I don’t love her.
When I look at her, she’s not the one I see in my dreams.
She’s blonde and my fantasy is a brunette.
She’s pregnant, and I want nothing to do with her.
I DON’T WANT HER
Never have.
I’m weak. I’m weak. I’m weak.
I flip to the end, unable to read anything about Sam and her fake baby. She tried to trap Liam, and it almost worked. It would’ve if he hadn’t left.
A piece of me has died.
My best friend, gone.
He never knew how sorry I am.
I’m going home.
She’ll be there.
Will I be able to tell her?
That I still love her?
With every breath – the love I have grows stronger.
Fuck distance.
Fuck life.
I hold the papers to my chest and let everything pour out of me at once. I’m an idiot for doubting him, for thinking that he wasn’t being honest with me. We have a good life and I almost let the pain I feel from not having him here with me ruin us.
“No more,” I say to a room full of memories. “Sam can’t hurt me anymore.”
I won’t allow it.
I start picking everything up, leaving his grandparents’ box for last. I want to talk to him about it, bring their stuff into our lives. We should be celebrating their lives, even if she’s the one who pulled him away from me.
No, that’s not true. Liam would’ve left regardless. Betty just guided him on his journey.
