Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
LIAM
L iam Wright Dates New Girlfriend! Who Is She?
I set the iPad on the table in front of my mother, who is sitting on the veranda sipping a cup of coffee. The sun has just risen over the hills, but the air is already warm. I’m glad I chose to wear shorts with a white linen button-up so I don’t sweat through my clothes. This morning is stressful enough.
Surprised, my mother picks up the tablet. I figure the tabloid article on the iPad will do some of the talking for me and serve as initial “proof” of this new development in my life.
She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she studies the happy picture of Chloe and me grinning at the camera, my arm around her waist. There were other articles, but many had pictures of our make out session, and a couple called our relationship into question with photos of Chloe talking to Patrick. As I had expected .
This entertainment news article was the most PG and mother appropriate.
I stand grasping the back of the chair beside my mother’s, watching her scroll through the article. It talks about Chloe’s profession and how we “met online,” though my mother will know that part is a lie. I notice my nervousness as she studies this information, and I’m not sure why.
After a moment, Mom looks up at me with wide eyes. “Is this real, Liam?”
I don’t like lying to my mother, but this was the plan. I nod my head. “We’re together.”
My mother’s mouth is open, disbelieving, though I see a quiver of hope turning up her lips as she processes the news. Then she frowns. “Why does it say you met online?”
“Well,” I take the seat next to her. “We couldn’t tell people that we met through life coaching.”
Her brow lines deepen, and I take her hand.
“Mom, it wouldn’t look good for Chloe if people knew she was my life coach before we started dating. It’d be bad for her professional reputation,” I explain.
My mother nods softly. “I understand.” She smiles slyly. “My lips are sealed, don’t worry.”
I smile back, overjoyed to see her full of energy about the news.
A couple of delivery people walk out towards us with huge flower arrangements.
“What’s all this?” my mother looks at me, bewildered.
“Chloe’s going to join us for breakfast.” I glance at my wristwatch, realizing it’s later than I thought. “ Soon . And I was a bit of a jerk to her last night, so I got her some flowers.”
More delivery people file in, each carrying flower arrangements. It looks like a parade.
“Oh, Liam!” my mother claps her hands together, delighted at the sight. Her eyes look watery with a glimmer of happy tears. She pulls me into a big hug. “I’m so happy for you and Chloe. She is amazing.”
I relish her happiness, satisfied that I made the right decision about Chloe.
My mother finally lets me go but frowns at me. “Don’t be a jerk to her.” She gives me a playful smack on the arm.
I chuckle. My phone buzzes, and I see a message from my house manager.
“Chloe’s here,” I inform my mother. I feel a sudden knot of anxiety.
“Oh, I’ll excuse myself. You two spend time together.”
“We wanted to have breakfast with you , Mom.”
My mother studies me for a minute, and I’m suddenly afraid that she can see right through me. Can she sense something fishy?
Finally, she speaks. “Okay, I’ll go freshen up. I’d like to see what you’ve got cooked up for her anyway.” She gives me an amused smile as the staff sets up all sorts of flower arrangements around the table. It’s not our typical breakfast affair.
I pause at the threshold of the library, where my house manager led Chloe. She stands with her back to me, gazing at my home aquarium that spans an entire wall. The filtration system emits a soft hum, and she doesn’t hear my approach.
I smile, watching her for a moment as she observes the orange and blue fish swimming by. Her hair is styled in a cute, messy bun, with strands escaping on the sides. She’s wearing a light green lacy dress with ruffled sleeves and a bow tied in the back at her waist. The dress stops just above her knees, and I could admire her long, bare legs for days.
I clear my throat, making my presence known. Chloe snaps out of her thoughts and turns around quickly, surprised.
“Hi.” She smiles, and my jaw almost hits the floor. The front view of her dress is cruel. The fabric crosses in a V-neck low on her breasts, accentuating her cleavage. I try to tear my eyes away from the curves of her smooth skin.
“Hi,” I say, clearing my throat. This isn’t fair at all. I thought having Chloe as my arm candy would be fun, but I’m far too tempted. I have a nagging urge to touch her, kiss her.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“You have a lot of fish,” she observes, her cheeks tinged with a blush. She’s nervous.
I smile, relieved to see I’m not the only one affected by our interaction. “That’s 155 fish, over thirty different species,” I recite, parroting the facts.
“Wow,” she responds, her eyes fixed on mine.
I swallow hard, then close the space between us. She stands her ground.
“Chloe,” I say earnestly, taking her hand in mine. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”
She gives me a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
“Will you tell me what happened with Patrick?” I ask, needing to know. I should have asked her when it happened.
Chloe lets out a small laugh, as if amused that I’m finally doing the right thing. But she indulges me, her expression becoming serious.
“Well, he said he was your friend,” she explains.
I feel my jaw clench. That assertion is laughable. We worked on a couple projects together years ago, but I couldn’t tolerate the multiple complaints from female talent and crew about his inappropriate behavior on set. Unfortunately, it’s a small town and our paths still cross.
“He cornered me.” She frowns. “Invited me to some party and was trying to tell me that you wouldn’t put me first and he would.” She shakes her head. “I was trying to escape without making a scene.” She searches my eyes for understanding, hoping to find it this time.
Guilt gnaws at me, and my stomach churns at the thought of Patrick coming onto her. I feel like such an asshole.
“Next time, tell him to go to hell,” I urge her.
Chloe chuckles. “Hopefully, there’s no next time.”
Unfortunately, there’s bound to be a next time. Chloe is stunning, and this won’t be last time some scumbag tries to hit on her despite our very public relationship.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.
She nods and manages a smile. “Well, don’t be sorry for all of it.”
What does she mean by that? I wonder if she’s referring to our PDA. I hope she’s not sorry about that part.
I notice she’s wearing a simple silver necklace that draws my eyes to her bare skin, which I enjoyed tasting too much last night.
“You look beautiful,” I say honestly.
“Thank you. I borrowed the outfit.” She shrugs. “Trying to look the part.”
I want to tell her that she doesn’t need to wear other people’s clothes. She doesn’t need to try that hard, or at all. I want to say so many things, but now is not the time. My mother’s waiting.
“Chloe, I already told my mom that we’re a couple,” I explain since we had initially planned to tell her together. “It’s all over the tabloids, so I wanted to make sure she heard it from me first.”
“Oh, I understand,” she says, but then she looks worried. “What did she say?”
I chuckle, thinking of my mother’s reaction. “She’s ridiculously happy, of course.”
Chloe smiles, relieved. She’s sweet—humble—to have any doubt about my mother’s positive reaction. To me, it had always been a sure thing. I knew Chloe was the perfect woman for the job.
“Shall we?”
She nods, grabbing a light cardigan off a nearby armchair as I lead her out of the library. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d brought a cover-up.
She slips it on quickly before we exit the house, and I notice a mix of relief and regret for the obscured view of her sun-kissed skin.
I reclaim her hand and lead her outside onto a steppingstone walkway alongside the house, passing a wall covered in vines. The path is narrow, so Chloe walks behind me as I lead the way. There’s a more direct route to our destination, but I want to buy the staff a little time, just in case they’re still setting up. Besides, this route will give Chloe a more dramatic reveal of our destination.
The walkway ends abruptly at the edge of the house and opens onto the veranda. I’m relieved to see everything arranged beautifully, with no staff members in sight. I’m surprised my mother isn’t out here yet, but I suppose she is taking her time, probably on purpose.
I move out of the way of Chloe’s view, pulling her to stand next to me. I watch as she inhales sharply at the sight before her.
The veranda is a sea of color, filled with buckets and vases overflowing with every type and hue of flower imaginable. It looks like every local flower shop was bought out because those were exactly my instructions.
Chloe stands motionless, her mouth opening in silent awe. I lean closer to her. “I don’t know what your favorite flower is yet,” I explain, “so I got you all of them.”
She looks up at me in disbelief. “These are for me?”
“Of course.” I smile.
She looks puzzled for a moment.
“It’s a beautiful set.” She looks genuinely impressed with my efforts, but she has the wrong idea.
Turning to face her, I explain. “Chloe, the backdrop doesn’t matter to my mother. This isn’t part of the act.”
“Really? Then, why do it?” She looks genuinely confused.
“The giant dick tax, I think,” I tell her, wanting her to understand this is for her, not my mother.
Chloe laughs, the dimple in her right cheek appearing, and I’m relieved to see her smile. With my hand still wrapped around hers, I gently guide her toward the beautifully set table for three in the middle of the sea of flowers. It’s a perfect sunny morning, though fog has settled around the Hollywood hills. Chloe looks amazed by the entire scene, which makes me smile.
“So, what’s your favorite?” I inquire, openly gathering intel.
“If I had to pick, I’d say tulips. I used to plant them in the fall with my mom,” she reveals, and I notice an almost imperceptible hint of sadness pass over her otherwise cheery expression.
I realize I know next to nothing about her family, but I intend to change that when the time is right.
“Chloe!” my mother’s voice calls out behind us. We turn around and she’s rushing toward us with a speed I didn’t know she was capable of.
“Hi Olivia,” Chloe smiles. Olivia shuffles up to Chloe and captures her in a tight embrace.
“Welcome to the family, sweetie,” my mother gushes. I’m taken aback by the suggestion that Chloe is already part of the family in my mother’s mind. Chloe shares my surprise, shooting me a terrified, questioning look over my mother’s shoulder.
I shrug and mouth “I don’t know.” I’m just as thrown off, though I feel a twinge of offense at Chloe’s frightened reaction.
“Thank you, Olivia,” Chloe says politely. My mother finally releases Chloe and gives me a proud look.
“Liam, this is just beautiful.” Mom glances around at the surroundings and then extends her arms to pull me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she says. When she pulls away, she claps her hands together. “Let’s eat!”
My eyes go wide, surprised by the extent of my mother’s enthusiasm, and I exchange an amused look with Chloe. I haven’t seen my mother this excited in a long time.
Mom heads for a chair at the wooden table, decorated as I’ve never seen it with a chic light blue table runner and pink cloth napkins.
“Allow me, Mom,” I say as I quicken my step to pull out her chair.
My mother shoos me away with her hand. “Save your charm for Chloe, honey. Go get her chair.”
I glance at Chloe, who freezes her motion to pull out her own chair. She gives me an unsure look. I flash her a reassuring smile as I round the table and take the back of the chair from her. I believe in old-fashioned chivalry, but I’m not practiced at it, and I can tell Chloe isn’t used to receiving it either.
“Thank you,” she says softly as I slide the chair under her.
“Of course,” I say as I take my seat, which is positioned equidistant from Chloe and my mother.
A server arrives to pour coffee and fill water glasses.
My mother looks at Chloe and me with a glimmer in her eyes. “So, tell me how you two decided to start dating. I want details.”
“Um...” Chloe looks at me for help.
“Well, Chloe just couldn’t stay professional, Mom.” I catch Chloe’s mouth dropping open in protest. “She said I was too charming and handsome.” I shrug matter-of-factly and sip my coffee.
My mother chuckles. “You certainly are, but I want a real answer, Liam.”
I sigh, trying to think. “I just…” I look at Chloe. She is watching me intently, waiting with bated breath for my response. I soften. “I felt something that I couldn’t explain,” I answer honestly, and I notice a rosy hue spread across Chloe’s cheeks before she looks away.
“And you, Chloe?” my mother asks, intent on prying out more information.
Chloe smiles nervously. “I can’t explain it either.” She glances my way. “But I knew I couldn’t be his coach anymore.”
“You felt that strongly about him?” my mother single-mindedly digs deeper. She hasn’t even touched her fresh cup of coffee.
“I do, yes.” Chloe’s eye catches mine. Her answer seems believable, and it doesn’t escape me that she answered in the present tense. She feels strongly about me. I wonder if there’s any truth in her answer, or if she’s just getting better at playing a role.
My mother sits back and smiles. Somehow, our vague answers were enough to satisfy her curiosity. “Well, don’t worry, Chloe, I won’t tell anyone about you coaching Liam before dating him,” she says seriously. “I will take your secret to the grave.”
“Don’t say that , Mom.” With her health problems over the past years, I shake my head at her choice of words.
The wait staff arrives with an impressive array of breakfast food—pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, egg scrambled, and colorful fruits of all kinds—arranged artistically on a giant board that they place in the middle of the table. Jellies and butter are in heart-shaped containers in the center, which seems fitting for the occasion.
“Liam, you really put the staff to work,” my mother praises with a smile.
Chloe looks amazed. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
I nod in agreement. “Almost.” I grab a couple pieces of French toast with my fork and drizzle on the syrup.
Emboldened by my example, Chloe begins filling her own plate.
“Chloe,” my mother begins as she cuts up a pancake. “I wonder if your relationship with Liam will affect our coaching.” She daintily places a forkful of food in her mouth, studying Chloe with concern as she chews. I realize I didn’t mention to my mother that she can keep her sessions with Chloe despite our dating. Understandably, she’s worried about that.
“Oh, no,” Chloe reassures her. “We can continue our coaching if you’d like. There’s no problem with that.” Chloe smiles sweetly. The morning sun highlights different shades of maple and cinnamon in her wavy hair and makes her green eyes blaze with color. I can’t help but think how beautiful she is.
Chloe catches me staring, and I quickly turn back to my plate. Feeling the warmth of the sun, I roll up the sleeves of my white button-up, trying to compose myself.
“Oh good.” My mother smiles, relieved. She picks around her plate with her fork, and I can tell she is thinking up another question. “It’s been so one-sided talking about myself during coaching. Does this mean you can talk about your life more now?”
Chloe chuckles. “Sure, I can. Outside of our sessions, of course.”
My mother’s eyes light up. “That’s wonderful. I know that you grew up in Michigan, right?”
Oh no. The inquisition is starting. I clench my jaw shut to keep my silence and try to be patient with my mother. This is for her, after all.
“Yes, until I moved here in high school.” Chloe takes a bite of a strawberry, seemingly unphased by the questions so far.
“Why did you move?” My mother looks like she is on the edge of her seat.
Chloe coughs and swallows her bite. “Um, my mother died.”
Oh fuck.
My stomach tightens and I put down my fork. How fucking terrible . Somehow, Chloe remains calm.
“My God, I’m so sorry, Chloe. What happened?” My mother’s voice is gentle with genuine sadness for Chloe, but it doesn’t stop her questions.
“Mom, maybe Chloe doesn’t want to talk about it,” I offer, trying to protect Chloe from feeling obligated to discuss painful memories over breakfast.
“It’s okay,” Chloe assures me, turning back to my mother. “She had a heart defect that no one knew about. She never had any problems. But one day, she was on the phone with my dad, and she collapsed. I found her when I got home from school,” Chloe shrugs, forks a piece of waffle off her plate, and places it in her mouth. I take it as a sign that she doesn’t want to continue talking about this.
My heart breaks for Chloe. I can’t even imagine her pain. I want to take her hand to comfort her, but I second-guess myself, wondering if she’d want me to. Maybe she would prefer to just move on with breakfast and focus on eating her waffles. Before I can decide what to do, my mother stands up.
“I’m so sorry, Chloe,” she whispers, circling the table to envelop Chloe in an awkward hug with Chloe still seated.
“It’s okay,” Chloe reassures my mother.
When my mother finally lets her go and returns to her seat, I notice Chloe’s eyes are watery. I feel a pang of guilt for causing her pain by subjecting her to this.
“Mom, Chloe and I saw a movie last night,” I say, trying to change the subject before thinking it through. Then I realize it’s probably a poor choice of topic since the horror movie was all about death and dying.
“Oh, that’s nice,” my mother responds. Then, turning back to Chloe, she asks, “Chloe, so you moved to LA with your father?” She detours right back to her line of questioning as she picks up her coffee cup.
I consider intervening, but Chloe answers calmly. “Yes, my brother and I did,” she replies, toying with her necklace.
“Are you close with your father?” Mom asks without pause.
“We’ve reconnected more recently,” Chloe nods. “I’m hoping to visit him in London sometime soon, but we need to find a good time—he’s very busy with work.” She readjusts her thin silver necklace again, and I notice the skin beneath it is red. It seems she’s been fiddling with it out of nerves so much that it’s causing irritation.
“Oh,” my mother glances pointedly at me. “Sounds familiar.”
I run a hand through my hair. Why am I being chastised?
“Okay, Mom, let’s give Chloe a break from the hot seat,” I say with just the right mix of good humor and firmness.
My mother sighs, relenting. “All right, well, I only wanted to make an appearance anyway. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” She stands up and gives me a conspiratorial look that makes me tense up. Although I’m glad she is excited, I’m reminded of how awkward it is to have her privy to my relationships. As she walks past me, she squeezes my shoulder. “I’m so happy for you.” She smiles.
“Thanks, Mom.” At least the mission is accomplished so far. Mom is happy.
Chloe stands as my mother approaches her. “It was lovely having breakfast with you, Olivia.”
“You too, sweetie.” My mother pulls her into a hug. Then she gives Chloe a guilty smile and adds, “Chloe, I don’t mean to pry. I’m just excited to get to know you better.”
Chloe laughs softly. “I know. It’s okay.”
It’s not lost on me that Chloe has shared deeply painful memories, yet she’s been the one constantly reassuring us throughout breakfast.
As my mother walks away, Chloe and I fall silent. She remains standing, watching my mother leave, but there’s still half a waffle on her plate. I expect her to sit back down and finish breakfast with me, but instead, she turns toward me, fiddling with her necklace again.
“I think I’d like to head out too, if that’s okay.” Her eyes search mine, waiting for my permission.
She wants to leave.
I am taken aback by my own disappointment. Of course, the job is over for the day now that my mother is gone. It makes sense that she would leave. Did I expect that she would want to spend time alone with me, off the clock? I suppose a part of me wanted her to.
“Sure, of course.” I stand to walk her back to the house. Guilt lingers as I realize she seems okay on the surface, but I know she’s not. I want to take her hand as I lead her back through the house, but something feels different.
Chloe doesn’t say a word as we walk together. She appears lost in her thoughts. By the time we reach the main hallway near the front door, I’m afraid I may miss my chance.
I need to know what she’s thinking.
“Chloe—” I touch her arm gently to bring her to a halt. She turns to me with surprise. “I’m sorry about all those questions. And don’t tell me ‘it’s okay,’ because it wasn’t.”
She gives me a slight, pained smile, which confirms what I already knew. She looks down the hall toward the front door, but no one is there. We’re alone.
“This is harder than I thought,” she admits, meeting my gaze. I wait for her to continue, and she exhales. “I didn’t expect things to get so… real, I guess.” She searches my eyes.
I swallow. “I know what you mean.”
I step closer to her, and she doesn’t back away.
“Chloe, do you—” I start to ask, but hesitate. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask.”
“You can ask me,” she assures me, and I sense she already knows what my question is.
I’m not sure I want the answer, but I clear my throat. “Do you know if you have what your mom had?”
“Oh,” she breathes. Her expression suggests she anticipated a different question, and for a moment, I wonder what she thought I was going to ask. “Um, yeah,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I did.”
My heart jolts. She did?
“It’s called a ventricular septal defect—VSD,” she explains, tugging at her necklace again. “It’s a hole in the wall of the heart. I had it at birth, and my mother did too. After my mom died, my dad had my brother and me tested. My brother was fine, but they found I had a small VSD.” She watches me closely, gauging my reaction.
I’m frozen, my head spinning. “And?” I ask gently.
“My doctor monitored me, but it closed up on its own by the time I was eighteen. My mom’s didn’t close, but…” Tears invade her eyes, and she swallows. “Um, it would’ve been completely treatable with surgery if we’d known.” I can see the layers of pain beneath her eyes.
Instinctively, I pull her into a hug. She buries her face in my shoulder, and I hold her close. I feel Chloe’s body relax into me, and she sniffles quietly.
I don’t know what to say. There is nothing to say, I realize. I just need to hold her.
When she slowly pulls away, I see her cheeks are wet. I use my thumb to wipe away the leftover tears. Her watery, sea-colored eyes lock with mine.
“I’m so glad you're okay,” I say softly, holding my hand on her cheek. I smooth a curly piece of hair away from her face.
Suddenly, I want to kiss her. My eyes drift to her lips and back to her eyes, the air thickening so I almost can’t breathe.
The sound of footsteps interrupts the moment. Someone is approaching, and my hand drops away from Chloe. Our tension-filled moment is burst as one of my staff members walks through the foyer, glancing briefly at us before hurrying on. As the footsteps recede, I study Chloe again. She seems to have regained some of her composure, sobered by our interruption.
She gives me a small smile, both of us understanding that something substantial has happened between us, but I can’t pretend to know exactly what it is.
“I got your shirt wet.” Her fingertips touch the small damp spot on my chest. Her eyes meet mine, apologetic, but there’s something else there too.
“Not the first time,” I reply with a smile, remembering how she fell against me with that wet paper towel at our first and last coaching session.
She offers another small smile, then retracts her hand as if realizing her touch is crossing some imaginary line.
A ray of sunshine from a hallway window falls across Chloe’s neck and chest, making her face seem to glow as she looks up at me, making no move to pull away further.
She is gorgeous. The chain around her neck glints in the sun, and I notice her skin still looks irritated beneath it.
“Your neck looks a bit raw,” I observe, if only in hopes that I can help her remedy some pain and discomfort today.
Her hand flutters to her necklace. “Oh, it’s my friend’s necklace,” she explains. “It must be fake because it’s all itchy. I guess I’m allergic to fake things,” she adds with a soft laugh.
“Let me help you,” I offer and, when she doesn’t object, I step closer to reach behind her neck. The quiet in the hallway feels charged as I take my time with the clasp. I allow myself to enjoy the closeness, the feeling of her warm, soft skin beneath my fingers. I notice her fresh, light scent, like she just stepped out of the shower. Her eyes meet mine, and she doesn’t look away—there’s an openness and trust that wasn’t there before.
Her mouth is only inches away, and I’m finding it difficult to resist the urge to taste her.
But I don’t make a move. I don’t know if I should cross the line with her. This fake arrangement already feels very real and kissing her would only complicate the situation further.
I undo the clasp and remove the cheap, fake necklace, handing it back to her.
“I’ll get you something real, Chloe,” I promise. I want to do that for her, at least.
She chuckles, then looks at me intently. “Just give me something real when we have our girlfriend-boyfriend chat, Liam.”
Oh, right . It’s my turn to be vulnerable, per our deal.
“You got it, coach.” I wink at her, and she smiles.
“See you tomorrow night.” She pulls away.
“I’ll walk you out.” As I escort her through the foyer, I place my hand on her lower back, and she doesn’t object.
I open the door for her, and she grins, thanking me. I follow her onto the expansive front porch. It's a perfect Southern California day—seventy degrees, sunny, and with just the slightest breeze.
I notice a hummingbird feeding on the pink flowers in a giant flowerpot, and I stop nearby, leaning against the column at the edge of the porch.
Chloe pauses at the top of the porch stairs, turning back to me with a surprised look.
“Aren’t you going to open my car door for me?” She arches an eyebrow.
I let out an exaggerated breath, feigning disappointment. “I think I’m all tapped out on chivalry for today. But I’ll watch you walk to your car to see that you make it safely.” I smirk. I fully intend to watch her closely—and thoroughly enjoy the view—as she walks the short distance to her car.
She narrows her eyes at me, undoubtedly suspecting my intentions, but she can’t hide her smile. “You do that.”
She turns around and glides down the wide steps to the brick-paved circular driveway. It’s warm now and she strips off her cardigan as she walks, revealing her bare shoulders. I wonder if she is doing this on purpose because she knows I’m watching. On the other hand, she could simply be warm.
She makes it halfway to her car before I call out her name.
She turns around, her green eyes searching my face, expecting me to say something. But I don’t, not verbally anyway. There are a million things unsaid.
I’m thankful for her help, for making my mother happy. I’m grateful that she’s here, healthy—that I’m getting a chance to know her. But I also just want to delay her departure a few moments longer, to see that dimple in her right cheek again.
I’m rewarded a moment later when she smiles at me, and I smile back.
As she drives away, I remain rooted in place, leaning against the column on the porch, thinking.
Chloe is captivating and I find myself falling under her spell. There’s no denying it.
But maybe that’s to be expected, given her profession. Somehow, she draws out the more vulnerable parts of me—that’s her job, after all. Naturally, we’ve developed a certain intimacy because of that.
Plenty of people want to kiss their shrinks, right?
But it wouldn’t be fair to Chloe to blur the lines even further. At the end of the day, this is a business arrangement.
I can’t cross the line, no matter how much I want to.