Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2) Page 9

  “You knew where to find me, Liam. Just like you knew where to send the flowers and wine back in LA, so I know you’re capable. Do me a favor. Just…stick to your porn stars and Orgy Room, and I’ll stick to my life, okay? It’s for the best.” Her eyes were pained, confused, brimming with tears I knew were betraying her more than I had.

  I wanted to grab hold of her and explain what my life was like, how crazy it could get, even when I didn’t want it to be. “Don’t be like that. Listen, you’re the one who kissed me out of the blue yesterday. I wasn’t expecting that any more than you were.”

  “You’re right. It was a mistake. Now go.” She started playing again.

  She might’ve been pissed, but I wasn’t going to give up that easily. “Abby, I’m sorry. I said I was going to meet up with you after the show, and that’s what I should have done. The guys and I…we get into crazy shit after the show. Some of it is real, some is made up for the sake of interviewers and publicity to keep our reputation going.”

  She listened. She didn’t shut me up or ask me to leave.

  “I wasn’t sure how I felt about you before that kiss. But I want you to know, I talked to two of my friends just to try to figure it out.”

  She stopped playing and looked at me. There was genuine interest in her eyes.

  “But after the kiss in the garden…I knew what I was feeling, and I’ll be honest here…it scared me. There’s…stuff…in my past. When I saw you watching us after the show, and I knew you’d heard…I knew you’d seen…I felt guilty. And that bothered me. I haven’t had to worry how my actions affected someone else for a long time.”

  She shrugged. “If it scares you so much, you don’t have to worry about your actions affecting me.” For a moment, she continued to look hard at me, then her expression softened slightly. She bit her lip and sighed. “Look, you’re right. I kissed you. And even though you were the one who said you’d find me, you didn’t make me promises beyond that.”

  “What if I want to make you promises?”

  She shook her head and smiled sadly. “You can’t blow me off, tell me you don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s feelings, then tell me you want to make me promises, Liam. That’s not logical.”

  I clasped my hands around the back of my neck and contemplated the ceiling before releasing a deep breath and dropping my arms. “I know. I’m confused. But one thing that’s not confusing is how attracted I am to you. You have to believe me.”

  “I do. Because I’m attracted to you, too. And I’m just as confused as you are. The truth is, I want you, Liam, but I’m not sure I should.” She waved her bow around slightly. “You live in a strange world. With strange people around you constantly, temptation around you constantly. There’s no room to breathe, let alone figure out what we could be to each other. So while I was mad, I understand why you didn’t come find me last night. Let’s just—”

  She was about to end things between us before they’d even started, and panic shot through me. Despite the way I’d fucked up, I couldn’t let her go yet. I couldn’t not explore just a little more what we could be together. But, like she’d said, how could we really do that given the situation we were in?

  A magical light bulb turned on inside my head, which occasionally did happen. “Want to get out of here?” I asked, my heart speeding at the thought of my sudden idea.

  Her eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? I have to practice. These are the only moments I have.”

  “But we don’t have a show tonight. Today is all downtime. We schedule the tours that way so nobody gets burned out. Let’s go into Seattle. I’ll rent a car, show you around. We can have a blast—a YOLO, carpe diem, seize-the-day shindig. Come on, Ab. Please?” I pressed my hands together in silent prayer. “Look, this is me begging.”

  Abby almost cracked a smile. “Liam,” she sighed and finally turned to fully face me. She looked beautiful in a light cotton skirt and tight, pink T-shirt, though the mad lines were still on her forehead. “I don’t think this is going to work out, so let’s not even begin. Agreed?”

  She was probably right. The chances of two opposites like us working out for the best were slim. But I had always been a risk-taker, like my parents before me, and they’d made it just fine. I had never taken no for an answer too well either. So it was worth a shot. We were worth a shot. “No, I don’t agree. Come out with me. If after the day together you still feel we won’t work out, so be it. But at least give us the chance to find out in the real world.” I held out my hand.

  She looked at my outstretched palm, then at me, wheels turning inside her brain, working overtime to safeguard herself. I understood her impulse to protect herself against hurt, but without pain, there would be no gain. Without risk, there would be no winning. She had to know this. Didn’t she?

  I tried a different approach. “I’m your boss. Let’s go have fun. That’s an order.” I smiled.

  Registering the look on my face and taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and finally spoke. “Fine,” she sighed, setting the cello gently on its side.

  “Yes,” I whisper-cheered.

  “But I have to bring my cello with me,” she added. “It comes with me everywhere I go. If you want me to come along with you, the cello comes, too. If you have a problem with it, you can go alone.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but you might have a hard time bringing it on the helicopter.”

  “What?” Her eyes flew open wide.

  I laughed. Quickly, I called Nathan at the hotel, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Nate. I need that car, please. Porsche 911 Carrera 4S. Black, convertible. Leather interior. Seven-speed. Loud speakers. Yes, Bose or Blaupunkt. Or anything like it. Thanks, man.” I hung up, and she cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “In the real world, huh?”

  I shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I am a rock star. It may not be a helicopter, but we’re still going to fly.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Abby

  When a man with money and the power to sweep you off your feet says, Let’s go for a ride, you don’t hesitate—you just go. The backseat of the Porsche had just enough space to fit my cello, and the sun was actually out, so I twisted my hair into a clip, and off we headed into the brightness.

  Among rock stars, he might not have been the wildest, which was probably for the best, but for me, he was definitely the most spontaneous guy I’d ever met. Money did that to a person, I guess, but my mom and I never had much room for spontaneity. If I needed so much as a new pair of shoes, we planned which budget it would come out of, how much it’d cost to take the train into the city, and which shoe store had the best prices that weekend.

  But now, here I was, riding in a fancy sports car whose engine revved like we were about to race the Indy 500. Maybe I should have been concerned when Liam pulled out of the hotel, cornering the Porsche like it was on rails. Oddly enough, I trusted him. Even though I was still mad, something inside me lifted. He was right—we needed to get out.

  At the corner, he pressed a button, and the top of the car unhinged, rose over our heads, and disappeared into the back end of the car where a flap came out of nowhere and closed down over it. “Ready?” he asked.

  “As ready as a kidnapping victim can ever be,” I murmured, gripping the seat handle He threw his head back and laughed hard. Then, he put on a slouch cap and sunglasses and gassed it. For a long time, we used no words, just rode through the city, swerving between cars, turning left and right, dodging people waiting to cross the streets, some of whom thought they recognized my driver. Just as they figured him out, though, the light would turn green, and we’d be off again.

  “You must get that a lot,” I said.

  “All the time.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “Not really. Most people are cool about it. Every so often, you run across crazy motherfuckers, but that’s why I wanted this car, so I can speed off if I have to.”

  “You don’t need to make up reasons to wa
nt this car.” I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re right. I just want to impress you. Do I?”

  “Oh, yes. Especially when you say ‘motherfucker.’”

  He laughed. “Damn. Tough chick.”

  That made me smile, I had to admit.

  We returned to silence as we drove by art centers, famous theaters, gardens, parks, and fish markets. It was a beautiful day, more gorgeous than I’d ever imagined, and the temperature was a perfect seventy-five degrees. The whole time, I kept thinking about what he said, how this was his life, how some of it was real, and some was fake. But mostly, I wondered about what he said about his past.

  I hated when someone pried into my life, though, so I decided he would tell me if he felt the time was right.

  “Abby,” Liam said at a red light, glancing over at me. “I want you to know something. When I first saw you at Robbie’s house, the night before the start of the tour, I loved that you were different. You did your own thing, dressed your own way, and didn’t give a shit what you said to Tuck. Other people kiss our asses all the time, so…I really appreciate that.”

  I definitely could appreciate that, too. All the more reason to believe that I wasn’t just a potential sex object to him. He liked who I was, just the way I was, even if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with me. I hated to admit it, but that gave Liam more points than Samuel in the adoration department.

  “Thank you, but I’m not that different, Liam. Maybe I stick out like a sore thumb in LA, but in New York, I blend in like anyone else. In fact, most people never, ever notice me.”

  “I highly doubt that.” He took my hand and looked at me deeply, sincerely. It felt nice, but as soon as the light turned green, he needed to shift gears, so he put my hand over the stick and layered his own hand on top. We drove and held hands at the same time. “Abby, I can’t promise you anything. Being with me is complicated. But if you’re willing, then I’m willing to give things a chance, see where they lead. Does that make sense?”

  I nodded, staring straight ahead. At the very least, he was being honest with me. “Yes, it does. I’ll think about it.”

  He smiled. “We can start with today.”

  I squeezed his hand in acknowledgment.

  It was enough for the moment.

  As he drove, I allowed myself to recline the seat and let him lead me. This wasn’t unlike ballroom dancing or getting a massage, I imagined, where you relinquish power and let someone else take control. I wasn’t used to the feeling, but I enjoyed it. We drove by the Seattle Center, the Space Needle, even Benaroya Hall, where the Seattle Symphony played.

  The air had a salty tinge to it as Liam turned down Second Avenue, and I knew we were near the famous Pike Place Market.

  “Can we get off here?” I rested my cheek against the headrest to look at him. “I’ve always wanted to see this place. Or will that cause too many problems for you?”

  “Nah, it’ll be fine.” He veered into a spot after a car just pulled out. “It’s only Thursday, so it shouldn’t be too crowded.”

  “What about my cello?” I asked, pointing to my baby. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it, since it could be seen in the backseat. Trunk space in a Porsche was only big enough for a lunch box. “I don’t want to leave it unattended too long.”

  “We’ll only stay a short while.” He pulled his cap further over his head, rolled a scarf around his neck, and turned to me. “How do I look?”

  “Like a hipster terrorist.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.” Closing up the car, he climbed out and quickly ran to my side to open my door for me. “Are you having fun yet?” he asked hopefully.

  “The jury is still out.”

  “Man, you are harsh, woman.” He feigned being hurt with a palm pressed to his chest, but I was getting to know this little pretending-to-be-offended act of his.

  Pike Place was kind of touristy, but so was Times Square, yet anyone visiting New York City had to experience it at least once in their lives. We watched the fish being flung around, bought coffee at Starbucks (where we stopped so Liam could sign two autographs for some quiet, older fans), and bought one soy candle, one jar of beeswax honey, and one dozen tulips in assorted colors.

  Then screeches echoed from down the sidewalk as a flurry of movement rushed our way.

  “Time to go,” Liam warned.

  So this was how it would be if we had a relationship.

  “Hurry, hurry…” He grabbed my hand and tugged me along, exiting Pike Place, bolting down the street, and running to the car like 007 and his Bond Girl escaping a deadly explosion in the nick of time. Liam laughed the whole time.

  Once we were cruising through the streets again, we breathed normally, and at a red light, he turned toward me. “What about now?” he asked, chuckling.

  I smiled-scoffed. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “Because I want to make sure you’re happy. You were mad at me last night and this morning, so it’s my duty to turn that frown upside down.”

  “Liam, it’s not your duty.”

  “But it is, mademoiselle,” he said, adopting a fake French accent. “When a man has saddened a woman, it is his complete responsibility to make it up to her.”

  “Okay, I forgive you for last night. I just…Liam…it’s hard for me, you know. If we start seeing each other, I will need time to get used to your life. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, to be honest. Plus…”

  “What? Say it.”

  “If we start dating, I’m not sure I’ll ever completely trust you.” Ugh, it hurt to say that, so wrong and accusing, but it was the truth. “How can I ever know that you’re being completely faithful? How will I be sure that you’re not succumbing to pressure from your bandmates to indulge at all your wild parties?”

  “Abby, right now, we’re just getting to know each other—”

  “I said if.”

  “Okay, and if we were to start dating,” he said, raising his sunglasses so he could see me eye to eye, “despite what happened last night, you can count on me. I would let you know first if it’s not working. Besides, there’s never any surefire way to know. That’s where trust comes in.” His eyes darkened, and he pressed his lips together in a sad smile.

  I guessed so.

  I didn’t love his answer, but it was the truth. There was no way to ever know for sure, just like we didn’t know when our lives would end, and I didn’t know if Yo-Yo Ma would ever grace me with his exalted presence, despite my years of hoping and praying.

  We headed east on I-90 across the northern edge of Mercer Island then south along 405. Liam held my hand the whole time, and I was surprised by how comfortable I felt being with him. Hours had gone by, and I hadn’t even checked my phone. Hadn’t seen him check his either. I thought maybe people would be worried about us, though I texted Rosemary earlier that I’d be back tonight.

  “Where are we going?” Call me crazy, but it felt like we were leaving the city.

  “You’ll see.” He smiled.

  My brain told me I should feel apprehensive, but my heart told me to shut up and enjoy this gift of attention, free tour, and amazing, rain-free day with a guy who actually treated me nicely, for once.

  We exited the highway at a town called Renton and drove through some residential and commercial areas. Nothing that appeared sight-seeing-worthy, even when we pulled into a parking lot outside some iron gates. “If I didn’t know better,” I said, “I’d say we’re at a cemetery.”

  Liam held up a finger. “Not just any cemetery.”

  “Fear is bubbling within me.”

  “Don’t let it.” He opened the door for me and took me by the hand. This was starting to feel as if we always did this, as if I’d always known him, and at no moment, other than when the fans came running, did I ever feel like I was in the presence of the same man who led an arena of thirty thousand people in rock ’n’ roll prayer the night before. I felt like I was in the presence of a friend.

  Enter
ing the gates, I realized we were probably at the gravesite of his grandparents, but as we strolled closer to a memorial with a curved roof and steps leading to a center hub surrounded by columns, I knew it couldn’t be. I spotted the glossy, black-lacquered surface of a plaque. On it, the image of rock legend Jimi Hendrix embracing his guitar as words written in what was probably his handwriting floated all around.

  “Oh, wow,” escaped my lips. I wrapped my other hand around Liam’s.

  “Yep,” Liam mumbled, staring at the square center stone displaying the legendary guitarist’s name and dates of his birth and death. “The very one.”

  “I had no idea this was here.”

  “Most people don’t. I only know because my grandparents’ house isn’t too far from here, so when we visited, my grandfather sometimes brought me here. He was a big fan of Jimi’s. He made me a fan, too. Are you?” He side-glanced at me.

  “I’m going to be honest and say that, though rock has never been my thing, I’ve heard his music, and the man was an artist with his instrument. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

  He nodded, seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling me into one of those big, sudden Liam bear hugs that scooped me up and squashed me against his delicious-smelling body. My skin prickled from the contact, and I immediately felt guilty for feeling that way on such hallowed ground.

  “I’ll have to play my favorite song of his for you sometime. It’s called Little Wing. Was the first time Jimi recorded using a Leslie speaker, which created those wave-like echo sounds he was so famous for. I love it.” Liam released his hold on me, except for my arm, and reached out to touch the center stone.

  “Well, you’re making me a fan,” I said, loving the way he talked about Jimi and the speaker. Like a man who knew his craft. I could listen to him explain more if he wanted. “Not only of him, but of rock in general.”

  He smiled at that, happy to have an effect on me of some kind. We stayed there for a while, reading the inscriptions, perusing the lyrics and background information on Jimi, until the sky overhead became overcast with dark clouds, and a swift wind blew through the cemetery, giving me an awful chill.