33. Liam
CHAPTER 33
Liam
“When should I plan that dinner party?” Toby asks, flinging his arm around me as we leave the writer’s room.
I have a headache. Gwenyth was fucking annoying today. She laughed insanely at every one of Andrew’s suggestions and said, “Brilliant!” to him at least four times. She even used a British accent when she’s from Reseda.
She’s a suck up. A pretty, manipulative, chronic cliche abusing suck up.
Who is just trying to get ahead in the industry, like we all are, and who has no idea that I’m a man on the edge right now. Every fiber of my fucking being feels tense, agitated, and lonely as hell.
Harrison offered to pay me a salary to stay in South Carolina. I know he had good intention, but for fuck’s sake, does he even hear himself sometimes? I don’t want to give up my career and I don’t want to be paid to be his boyfriend.
I want to be his boyfriend because I’m in love with him and I want him to understand me. It shocked me he didn’t get that.
I’m also a little stunned that Ivy has no immediate plans to return to California.
She said there was nothing for her here and whether she meant it to sound the way it did or not, that shit hurt.
What also hurts is that not one of the three of them has reached out to me since I got on that airplane and came home.
Home.
It doesn’t have quite the same feeling now that my three favorite people are on the other side of the country.
Yes, three.
I don’t know when or how it happened, but in a mere ten days me, Ivy, Harrison, and Ford became a foursome. A fully functioning, love all around poly unit.
I’ve always loved Ivy. For a year, I’ve been fighting the truth that I’m in love with Harrison too.
Then seeing how Ford takes care of Ivy and enjoying his incredibly loyal and deep friendship with Harrison and finding a connection with him myself, well, getting them out of my system was never going to happen.
But here I am and they’re…there.
I sigh and rub my temples. “Put a pin in the dinner party,” I tell Toby, heading for the front door. I need fresh air and a coffee. “Ivy is still in Honeysuckle Harbor.”
“What’s Honeysuckle Harbor, a lingerie shop? Sex club? Your girl getting a little sexed up for you? I love a good role play session.” Toby drops his arm and adjusts his bow tie.
He’s the only one who wears a suit daily. Given our many meetings, brainstorming, and bantering, most of the six writers on the show dress like Ross from Friends. Bulky sweaters, loose pants, and sneakers. Toby always looks like he’s a salesman on the floor at Saks.
I’m actually wearing old gray joggers and a Star Wars T-shirt that has seen better days. Which was a poor choice because it just reminds me of Harrison and Ford back in South Carolina.
And Ivy.
God, we left things on a fucking terrible note.
We were all frustrated and not on the same page. At all.
“It’s neither. It’s a town in South Carolina. It’s where Brad bought the house for Ivy.”
And Harrison and Ford are from and live.
And now presumably Ivy, since she wants to launch a new business there.
I push the front door open harder than I need to and warm air hits me in the face. At least today is overcast. The gloom suits my mood.
“Why on earth is she still there?” Toby makes a face. “It sounds so gauche .”
And he sounds like my grandmother, but I don’t bother to point that out.
“It’s actually a very cool place. The people there aren’t fake.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
I don’t really want to have this conversation. “Are you parked down here?” I ask him as he walks down the sidewalk next to me. I’d really prefer to be alone right now.
“No, I’m going to the coffee shop with you. I heard you tell Andrew that’s where you were going and I need a double espresso, pronto.”
“I’m actually going straight home,” I say, instantly changing my mind. I’m not up for either shallow banter or a work bitch session with Toby. “That’s what I meant. I got a new coffee maker from Sur La Table.”
“The one that can do lattes and cappuccinos and espressos?” Toby stops walking and gives me a steely glare. “Did you get a raise? I’ll kill that bitch Andrew.”
“No. I’m just a good…saver.”
“Well, you definitely don’t spend your paychecks on your clothes. See you tomorrow.” He gives me a friendly wave that belies his insult and crosses the street.
“Damn it,” I mutter. I really did want that coffee and I don’t have a fancy as fuck coffee maker at home. I have a twenty-five dollar one from Target.
I miss the coffee maker at Harrison’s. It did a perfect brew. I miss the coffee shop in Honeysuckle Harbor, which did not do a perfect brew, but came with atmosphere galore and the excellent company of Sam, Ed, and Walt.
Checking my phone with one hand, I rub my forehead with the other.
No texts. Nothing.
I’ve called Ivy twice and I’ve texted Harrison four—okay, five—times. When neither answered, I resorted to texting Ford and even he hasn’t responded to me, which seems out of character.
Did something happen?
Is there a hurricane in South Carolina that I haven’t heard about? They get those fuckers all the time. What if they’re hunkered down with no power, or worse, Harrison’s beach house has been sucked into the ocean?
Or what if they’re having a great time without me? Laughing, having sex, falling deeper in love? What if it’s all better without me?
Maybe it’s easier with me gone, which is great for them, a virtual hell for me.
I didn’t think this through.
A woman walks past me with her little dog. I’m not sure of the breed but it starts barking riotously at me and trying to nip my ankle. I jump back. “Whoa! Back off, Killer.”
The brunette gives me a glare and bends down to scoop her dog up, like I’m going to kick it or something.
“I wasn’t?—
“Go fuck yourself,” she says in a haughty tone, nestling her still barking dog against her yoga crop top. Her yoga mat slides down her shoulder.
“Real Zen,” I tell her.
“Prick.”
Shaking my head, I walk toward my car, knowing full well it’s going to take me thirty minutes to drive the three miles to my apartment. I tried to walk to work a few times to avoid the traffic but then Gwenyth made a comment that I was very sweaty and she couldn’t concentrate because of it, so the next day I got back in my car and drove to work. After that, I just kind of forgot walking was an option.
That’s what happens when you spend your whole life in the same city.
You kind of forget there are other options.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Fuck this.
Pulling my phone out, I scroll until I find Chess Sam.
He gave me his number before I knew he was Harrison’s grandfather. I shoot off a text.
Hey, is everything okay there? No hurricanes or other disasters?
Sam doesn’t text me back until I’m walking into my apartment. He’s not as attached to his phone as millennials, as he’s told me three times.
No hurricanes. But the FBI is crawling all over town.
I stop and stare at my phone. I know there was an agent trying to get a hold of Ivy, but I guess I figured once she said she didn’t know where Brad is, they’d back off.
They’re in Honeysuckle Harbor? Crawling all over town? That’s not good. That definitely involves Ivy. And probably Ford and Harrison. They’re Brad’s friends. They were business partners in the restaurant in L.A. when it first opened. What the hell has Brad gotten into?
The FBI? Because of Brad?
I shove the door open to my apartment and head straight to my bedroom to pack an overnight bag.
Yes, sir. They were at his parents, then Ivy’s house, now Harrison’s. Took all the kids’ phones, fyi, in case you’ve been trying to get a hold of them. Heavy-handed bullshit. Got some lawyers working on it.
Yeah. I need to get back there. I don’t care what we said or didn’t say in Harrison’s kitchen. This is big. They need me. Or, I need to be there, at least. I type quickly.
I’m booking a flight now.
Nah, don’t worry about it. Everything is under control here.
What is with these laid-back millionaires? God. I don’t care if it’s under control or not. Obviously, there’s not much I can really do , but…I have to go back to South Carolina.
I need to be with the people I love.