Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2) (18 page)

“Her name is Abby.”

“Whatever her fucking name is!” She stormed off toward her bus, head hanging, and me feeling like I’d bypassed douchebag and gone straight to Motherfucker of the Year.

Abby

As my infatuation with Liam grew, so did my stress. We were in Vancouver, home of Giselle Vici, last tour’s flame, Goddess of Sex, Bras, and Lingerie. Was I enough to keep Liam from straying? I admitted that a teeny part of me did give him that backstage blow job to show him I could compete, I could be his woman, and he didn’t need a line of groupies out the door to be happy. But most of me did it because I enjoyed it.

And, oh, did I enjoy it.

I’d never done that before in exactly that way—slowly, deliberately, taking my sweet time. To be honest, Samuel always climaxed way too quickly, before I could even begin exploring. Maybe it was my fault…because it didn’t happen often. But doing it with Liam felt different—remarkable, so sexy, and I couldn’t wait to get on with learning more with him.

But for now, there was work to be done.

During our first rehearsal break, my mother called, which surprised me, since she’d told me before I left NYC that she wouldn’t want to bother me and preferred that I call her instead. Either her patience had failed her, or something was up.

“Hi, Mom,” I answered, sneaking out of the rehearsal room into the warm sunshine of the venue’s back parking lot.

“Abby! Have you been following news of the tour?”

“Ma, I’m
on
the tour. Why would I be following news if I’m experiencing it? What’s up?”

“Look at your texts, for crying out loud. Look at them!” my mother said in that special tone that suggested she was going to bust a gasket if I didn’t stop everything I was doing and attend to her matters at once.

“Okay…hold on. I was rehearsing. Sorry.” I pushed the button to return to the home screen where I could check texts while putting my mom on speaker. Apparently, she had taken a screen shot and sent it, showing a photo of me holding hands with Liam outside his bus. A headline from BuzzNews read:
Is Liam Collier Romancing New Mystery Woman?

There wasn’t much news attached to the photo, just a basic summary of Point Break being on the North American leg of their world tour and questions about this mysterious woman he was recently seen with. Man, news really did travel fast. But it wasn’t an incriminating photo or anything.

“Ugh, look at my arms.” They looked like two baby redwood tree trunks.

“That’s what you have to say? About your thick arms?”

“Did I say they were thick, Ma?”

My mother mumbled something under her breath. Then, “Abby, you have Samuel here. You don’t need to be gallivanting with that punk boy.”

“Mom, he’s not a boy. He’s the lead singer of the band and actually very talented. He treats me well, in a way that Samuel never did. Besides, I don’t know how long it will last, but that’s nobody’s business.”

“It’s everybody’s business now, Abby! Look at that headline. Abby, you need to be discreet. You need to stay focused.” She sighed, regaining control of her emotions. “You have an audition at the end of summer.”

I kicked a concrete parking curb. “Like I need reminding? Ma, I know what I’m doing.”

“Be careful what you do and in front of whom. That’s all I am asking.”

“Yes. I know, but I don’t see the big deal. Especially if I’m having a good time,” I said, to my own surprise. I was having a good time with Liam, was I? Did I mean that in a superficial way, as in I was having a summer fling, or was I developing long-term feelings for Liam? “I have to go now. Stop trolling the Internet, okay? It’ll drive you crazy.”

“You make me crazy, Abby.”

I smiled, spotting Rosemary in the doorway waving at me to let me know the break was over. I gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s my job. I love you. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

“If you gallivant in front of the paparazzi again, wear a different top that doesn’t make your arms look fat, okay, Abby?”

I said nothing. My mother. God love her. I swear.

“Abby?”

Phone in pocket.

*

I had no idea Vancouver was so beautiful. The sunset view from our L’Hermitage Hotel room overlooking downtown’s West End and Vancouver Harbor was simply amazing. Because we had the night off, Rosemary wanted to stay in and order room service, but I was restless. I thought about trying to find Liam, though he could, conceivably, be anywhere. It was not a night for staying in.

Standing at the window, watching the sun go down, I received a text from “unknown.” I knew exactly who it was. He must’ve finally gotten my number from somewhere.

He wrote:
Go for a walk, get a bite to eat?

How’d you get my number?

Employee payroll. Yes or no.

I bounced on the edge of the bed like a little girl before a big party.

Rosemary glanced over my shoulder. “What’s that smile for? Is that him?”

“Maybe.” I swiveled to block her and fired back a reply:
I only walk and dine with famous rock stars, sorry.

“God, I still can’t believe you’re fucking Liam Collier,” she said, rosining her bow.

I reached across the bed and smacked her leg.

The ellipses indicating a reply came on, making my heart skip. He wrote back:
You’re in luck then. ☺
Meet you downstairs in ten?

Sure.

“You’re going to dinner with him, aren’t you?” Rosemary clucked her tongue. “Abandoning your best friend for a guy. How typical.”

“Oh, stop,” I said, checking my hair in the mirror. I grabbed my purse and sweater. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

She gave me a wide-eyed look. “If you come back to this room, I will be sorely disappointed. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you’re lame? Go have a good time, damn it.”

I chuckled, smoothing my shirt and pants. “How do I look?” I whirled around to face her. I probably looked ordinary, but the truth was, I hadn’t packed any special dresses or outfits, thinking I wouldn’t be going out that much. Funny how things changed in a matter of a week.

Rosemary, gorgeous in her own right, tilted her head to examine me. A sisterly glow seeped into her melancholy expression. “Like a woman needing to get away and find love for herself. Good for you, Abby,” she added without any sarcasm whatsoever. She was genuinely happy for me.

But
had
I found love? Much less the love of my life? How could she tell? How did I know this wasn’t simply lust or short-lived infatuation? I didn’t have enough experience to perceive the difference, but I knew one thing—Liam made me feel special in a way that Samuel never could in a million years.

That alone was worth pursuing.

“Thanks.” I gave Rosemary a short hug then blasted out of the hotel room, headed for the elevator, checking my reflection several times while waiting for it to arrive. It occurred to me then that this would be the first real dinner Liam and I would have together. Though we’d spent the day in Seattle and picked up food at the market, we hadn’t actually sat down to talk much.

My mother would say that was backward, that I should get to know a man thoroughly before ever giving up my “gifts,” but I wasn’t ashamed to say that, after being with Samuel, I first wanted to know how my chemistry was with Liam before proceeding. And so far, the chemistry was superb.

Explosive even.

Organic.

Atomic.

More, please.

Downstairs, he waited for me beside a column, thumbing through his phone, which he put in his pocket as soon as he saw me. “A vision of beauty.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. He wore dark pants, a light blue, button-down shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a dark jacket over it. He was freshly showered, smelled wonderful, and my stomach did backflips, somersaults,
and
cartwheels.

“Were you looking at our lovely first photo together?” I asked, nodding toward the phone he’d put back in his pocket.

“Ah, yes. Was it that obvious?” He shook his head in amusement. “It wasn’t too bad a shot, actually. And you looked beautiful for having just climbed out of bed.” He gave me an arm to link mine around as he led us out the back of the hotel and past doormen who nodded and bid us a pleasant evening.

“Aren’t people going to recognize you if we go out?” I asked, noticing a few curious looks from hotel guests lounging in the lobby.

“Maybe, but we’ll walk fast. The restaurant is expecting us. There’s a private room, and Nathan is nearby in case we need him. So let’s go.”

We walked through the twilight-bathed streets of Vancouver. I felt light on my feet, cautious and vigilant of paparazzi, but happy. Our focus was to get there quickly, not so much conversation at this point, but I also felt like I didn’t need to talk constantly. Walking with Liam was like being with someone I’d known forever, a best friend, and that thought made me smile.

“Did you practice your piece today?” he asked.

I loved the fact that he cared this much about my audition. “Yes. Many times. It’s getting much smoother. It’s not an easy composition. Quite complex, but I made it that way on purpose. Needs to be.”

“There is nothing simple about you, and your piece should match that enigmatic, unpredictable style that is you.”

Swoon.
Flattery would get him everywhere.

“Oh, yes, unpredictable, that’s me.” I often wished I could act more spontaneously instead of sticking to my tried and true ways.

We turned the corner and paused before a storefront that had a barrel tile awning. Liam looked up to make sure we had stopped at the right place. “Here we are.”

“Good evening, Mr. Collier. Happy to meet you, sir.” The maître d’ of the upscale Cuban restaurant La Cocina Cubana ushered us to a semiprivate room upstairs in the back, away from gawkers but close enough so we could still enjoy a view of the dining room, not completely blocked off.

“Abby, trust me, you’re complex. Straitlaced but passionate, practical but artistic. That’s key to creativity. Nobody can pin you down. I like that about you.”

“I never considered that. You’re the same way.” I noted the crinkle in his eyes that seemed to appear only when he was with me.

“Two peas in a pod.” Liam worked my chair back and in again as I sat.

Our waiter, Hector, handed us menus and told us about the specials. The
Bistec de Palomilla
sounded delicious. Paired with
platanos maduros
and white rice, I probably wouldn’t eat it all, but I loved that I’d get to try it, that he’d chosen such a unique place. All around were pieces of art on the walls depicting scenes of Havana and potted palm trees. Romantic and enigmatic, like Liam.

“Listen…” He took my hand. It was hard not to feel like I was in some fairy-tale dream. “You’re more spontaneous than you give yourself credit for.” He leaned forward to whisper, “And that blow job you gave me last night? Second to none.”

“Stop, you’re lying.” I looked down, knew I was blushing.

“Abby, I swear to
God
. It was beautiful. I didn’t expect it. That just goes to show that you can be impulsive if you feel like it.”

“Must have been something in the air, Liam, because I’m not usually like that.
You
make me feel that way,” I said, goose bumps creeping up my arms and neck. I couldn’t believe the things I was doing and telling this man. Putting myself so out there for him to analyze. And possibly destroy. So dangerous.

“I’m glad that I do that for you. What’s it normally like for you then?”

“Normally?” I exhaled slowly, considering the question. “Normally, I just practice cello, perform, cook, maybe hang out with Rosemary. Nothing much, really.”

“So maybe you were ready to try on a new skin.”

“I am. I mean, I was, and I’m glad I did with you, Liam, honestly. I’m just…” I couldn’t tell him everything. From all I’d seen in movies and read in novels, once you divulged every last feeling, that’s when someone betrayed you.

“What?” he asked.

Something in Liam’s eyes told me it was okay to talk, though. He was just a person, and I was just a person, and there was nothing to be scared about. There was that word again. “Scared. If I seem at times like I’m not sure how to proceed, not sure of what I want, I hope you’ll have patience with me. I just came out of a relationship,” I said to silent eyes regarding me with admiration. “It scared the hell out of me.”

“What was so scary about it? He wanted to get married and you didn’t?”

I shook my head. “No way, I couldn’t even think about marriage with him. My mom never married. My father left her while she was pregnant. I was the reason she had to quit the New York Philharmonic.”

His eyes grew wide in surprise. “Your mother played, too?”

Smiling, thinking of Mom, I nodded. “The best cello player around. Better than I am.”

“Damn, then I should have hired your momma,” Liam said, winking.