Chapter Thirty-One
We find ourselves on a plane about two hours later, headed back to Singapore. Apparently, when he’s mad enough, Ray Weston can pull some very large, flight-capable strings, but I tell you what: if he thinks banishing us immediately will discourage me from future castigation, he’s sorely mistaken. I am delighted to be getting the hell away from that island and everyone still on it.
I think the man beside me is also pleased, although it’s hard to tell. There isn’t a lot of room for personal space onboard the amphibious plane, but Liam has wedged a bubble of silence between us anyway. We silently watched the dark jewel of Pulau Jingga get smaller and smaller behind us in the night sky and then he turned forward, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.
I meant every word I said in that tent, but the ones that stick with me right now are the ones about Liam and how I don’t know what he’s going to do now. Yes, he’s been very clear that he didn’t want to come back to the family company, but I have no idea whether he’ll put his happiness above his siblings’ financial interest.
And when Ray stormed out of the tent, yelling for island staff to “get me a fucking plane this instant,” and the rest of the family had scattered to their various lodgings, two people hung back: Peter and Liam. I’d tried to stick by his side, but Liam had kissed my forehead and told me he’d meet me back at the bungalow.
I packed up our suitcases and waited on the balcony, not at all sentimental about leaving that cursed place. But it wasn’t Liam who walked toward me from the jetty, but Gede, telling me that Dr. Weston would meet me onboard. My man ducked in through the low plane door after I’d been waiting nearly fifteen minutes, and I felt a nearly blinding relief. But then he wordlessly sat beside me, took my hand, and turned to look out the window.
The desire to know what had gone on in the hour we’d been apart is nearly killing me. But when his breathing evens out and his mouth goes soft, I know he needs sleep more than I need answers.
RAY EXPELLED US FROMthe island, but unfortunately, even he lacks the power to change the Singapore Airlines schedule, so our flight to LA remains the same. With nearly eighteen hours before we depart, Liam gets us a hotel room in the airport, and I take what has to be one of the most glorious showers of my life. When I emerge, he’s standing at the window, staring out at the dark skyline. He doesn’t look over when I approach in a bathrobe but twines his fingers with mine when I take his hand.
I tug him toward me. “Hey.”
A frown flickers across his brow and he squeezes his eyes closed, but he doesn’t immediately answer.
“Liam.”
At this, he slowly turns his head to look at me. I think I know the answer. The second our eyes meet, I think I get it.
“You’re taking the job, aren’t you?”
This time when he blinks, his lashes are wet with tears. He shrugs, and something inside my chest cracks. I move to stand between him and the window, facing him, cupping his jaw in my hands. “Isn’t there another way? Do you have to go work for him?”
Liam doesn’t answer but takes a long, defeated breath.
“No one needs that much money,” I tell him. “Your siblings definitely don’t.”
He nods in agreement. He swallows thickly, pursing his lips to get his emotions under control. “He’ll retire soon. I’ll only have to deal with him for a few years.”
“What did he do to you, Liam? Is that this mysterious Pisa thing?” I admit, I googled it, and found nothing. At least, nothing that sounds like a scandal. Pages and pages of information on the Leaning Tower of Pisa or an international student assessment exam, and nothing about an American family scandal. Whatever it is, it’s been buried online. “I know your dad screwed you over somehow. I know you took the blame for something, and that it was bad enough for you to want out, but I have no idea what it was. Why won’t you just tell me?”
He shakes his head, bringing his hands up to my wrists to gently guide my arms down. “Pisa is… it’s just a stupid fucked-up thing in the past. It’s what caused the rift with us, but it’s only one of many reasons I don’t want to work with him.” He inhales deeply and then blows his breath out. “I have to talk to my lawyers. I have to figure it out. When we get back to California, I’ll bring you to my place. We’ll sit down and I’ll tell you everything. But right now, I just need figure out what happens next. Can you trust me?”
Words bubble up in my throat. I can’t go back to your place; I have to find a job. I don’t want to sit with this until we get back. I want to know now. I swallow them down, wanting to do and be whatever he needs right now, but inside, I am a mess. I hate this. And as much as I hate to admit it to myself, I’m deeply uneasy. Uneasy with the thought of remaining connected to the Westons via Liam. Uneasy with him making such a terrible decision all in the name of money. Uneasy with the intrusive feeling that maybe I don’t know him at all.
“I can,” I say carefully, “but I don’t like this.”
He nods, never once looking away. “I know.”
Across the room, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. “I’m going to get that. I’ll be right back.”
It’s Mel. “Hello?”
“Hey, lady! I have some amazing news.”
I close my eyes, turning to sit at the edge of the bed. I look down at my pink-tipped toes on the cream carpet, trying to anchor myself. Emotional whiplash is the name of the game these days. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“Two things: one, the gallery wants another five paintings from you.”
I straighten. “Oh my God, what?”
“And two, there’s a gallery here in Los Angeles that also wants to feature two of your pieces.”
I cup a hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes closed. It must be the cocktail of emotions in my meager body, because it’s my turn to cry. I feel tears rise up and spill down my cheeks.
“Anna?” she asks.
“I’m here,” I choke, and at the sound, Liam whips around, coming to kneel at my feet.
“What happened?” he mouths, his light brown eyes round and worried.
I shake my head, mouthing back, “It’s okay. It’s good,” and then say to Mel, “I’m just a little in shock.”
“I bet you are,” she says, laughing. “This is how it all starts.”
“So seven in total?” I ask, and Liam leans in, mouthing more insistently. “What is it?” His fingers absently skim up and down my legs.
After Mel answers yes, I cup a hand over the phone and whisper to Liam, “The gallery wants more paintings. And there’s another gallery in LA that wants some, too.”
He beams up at me, squeezing my calves in his hands, and it feels so good to see that smile on his face. I reach forward, tracing his lower lip.
“When do you get home?” she asks.
“Like in an hour,” I say, laughing, “because the math involved in traveling to and from Asia is make-believe.”
Mel laughs at this. “Okay, well, call me as soon as you’re settled so we can get this sorted.”
“I will.”
“Hopefully people will get to see them this time,” she says, laughing.
“Right?” I say, laughing back, and then my joy is turned briefly on its side. I think I’ve misheard her. “Wait—what do you mean?”
“Oh, you know, because the original three were purchased before the show even opened.”
I blink. “Before the show opened?” I ask and then I understand: I hadn’t spaced the gallery opening; it hadn’t even happened yet. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I ask, “Who was the buyer?”
“Anonymous.”
I stare at Liam, kneeling in front of me, so happy for me. So proud. So unsurprised by all of this. “Anonymous buyer,” I say quietly, and his smile falters for just a breath. “At five times the sticker price, too.”
“Amen,” Mel sings. “Okay, sweets, I’m hopping on another call, but we’ll talk soon.”
“Absolutely.” Numbly, I press End Call and stare down at the phone in my hands.
“So?” Liam says, tracing his fingers up and down the back of my calves. “Tell me the good news.”
I turn my face up to him. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
His expression freezes, and then he tries on another smile. “What was me?”
“The buyer,” I say. “The person who bought the first three paintings.”
Liam’s eyes flicker back and forth between mine. I silently beg him not to lie. “Yes,” he admits, finally.
A stone drops in the hollow of my chest. “Why?”
“Because you wanted it so much,” he says. “Because this is how these things work—buzz builds.”
“You’ve never even seen my art.”
“I saw it in your apartment before we left. I’ve seen your drawings on the island.”
I move to stand, and he has to shift back, standing, too, reaching for my hands, but I pull them up to my chest, curl them into my body. “I feel…” I shake my head, out of words. Honestly, I’m gutted. “I feel so incredibly stupid.”
“God, why?”
“Because I thought the person who bought the paintings had seen them and loved them.”
“I have seen them. I will love them because you made them.”
“This isn’t a third-grade art project, Liam. That’s not how it works.”
He steps closer, but I turn and walk over to the dresser. “Anna. Getting noticed in the art world is—”
“Are you really going to explain this to me? Because you’ve spent so much time in art circles?”
He frowns. “Well, I do know a bit—”
“Because your family is wealthy, and you know a lot of patrons?”
Liam steps back, sits at the end of the bed facing me. He’s still dressed in his suit from the wedding and I’m suddenly so happy that I showered, that I washed every trace of that place off me. “Okay, stop,” he says. “It was only a few thousand dollars.”
“Only a few—” I cut off, so irate that I’m shaking. “Do you realize that for someone like me a few thousand can feel as impossible as a few million?”
“This isn’t about our backgrounds,” he says steadily, so calm. “This isn’t about money. This is about helping you build a name for yourself.”
“This is only about money,” I tell him, feeling the tight strangle of tears in my throat, the weight of his necklace against my skin, the ring on my finger. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You absolutely did. When Mel called the first time with the news that the paintings sold, you could have told me it was you. Better yet, you could have told me before you did it. You could have run it by me.” I stare at him, devastated. “How long were you going to let me think that someone else bought them?”
Liam sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought it would be romantic if you saw them for the first time in my house.”
I’m so exhausted, I just want to get off this roller-coaster ride. “Liam, that’s what happens in movies.”
He nods, his posture deflating. “Yeah.”
“But in reality, what it feels like is you just using your money and influence to direct the path of my career because you think you know what’s best for me, and I’m not sure, but I think that exact same situation is why you’ve been frowning out windows for the past six hours.”
“Anna, that’s not—”
“It is the same.”
“I’m not doing what my father did,” he says, jaw tight.
We stare at each other, suffering through the fucking brutality of this moment. Nothing feels lonelier than fighting with him right now.
“You’re right. You bought my paintings out of love—or something that looks like it. Your father’s actions aren’t motivated by that. Intent matters.” I take a steadying breath, nostrils flared. “But you can’t buy my love. That part of me wasn’t ever for sale. I gave you my body and my heart because of what you make me feel, not because you’re rich. Your money is the thing I like the least about you.”
“I know.”
I search his eyes, trying to understand him. “And if the distinction is so important, if what your dad is doing is so abhorrent, tell me why you’re going along with it. Jake, Charlie, even Alex—they’ll be fine. Who needs that much money anyway? It’s clearly made you all miserable. Do you see that? You’re all rich and completely miserable, and yet you want more?”
He exhales in frustration. “I don’t care about the money. But it isn’t just about me.”
Inside I am restless. I know I won’t like where this is going, but I can’t stop. “You’re sacrificing your happiness to protect the rest of your family? Admirable, yes. But come on, Liam.”
“Let it go, Anna.”
“Charlie will be fine,” I say. “The McKellans are loaded.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated.
“Alex and Jake have enormous salaries. They’re never leaving the company. Even if Jake never marries or never has access to his inheritance, he’s still richer than almost every other person on this planet. And your mom, should she ever wise up and leave her sludge goblin of a husband, will be fine. There’s no way California law would leave her with no alimony. So she goes on one cruise a year instead of owning the yacht. People live with much, much less.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know my father.”
“You’re right, and I mean, what I do know is horrifying, but I also think your worldview is totally broken if you think any of you with your very legitimate careers are better off sacrificing your happiness to that man just to make sure you can still wear Gucci to take the trash out.”
“Anna, I can’t unilaterally decide to alter this huge aspect of their lives,” he says, his voice hoarse with frustration.
“But it’s not you!” I cry. “It’s Ray. Ray has made you think the responsibility lies with you. Ray is the one who’s threatening to challenge the trust so you’ll do what he wants. Ray doesn’t have to take this to the courts. What he’s doing is emotional manipulation, Liam. You don’t have to fall for it.”
“Whether they need the money or not, whether it’s fair or not, whether or not I’m being manipulated, at the end of the day, our marriage is a fraud. We did lie. I’m the reason my siblings are in this situation. Choosing to protect myself in all of this, despite all of that, is exactly what my father would do. I have to make the other choice.”
Oh. Oh, Liam.
“But would your siblings choose you?” I ask, feeling disgusted by all of them. “You know they wouldn’t, Liam. Maybe they love you, but they’re broken.” I take a step closer. “How many of them spoke up to protect Thuy at the restaurant? How many of them blinked about buying a house because Charlie’s rental flooded? They brought who knows how much crap and garbage to a protected island in the middle of the ocean. If you ask them to pick between you and money, they will choose money every time.”
“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.
“Maybe not,” I say, “but I think you do. I’m the only one here offering you unconditional support and love—and I’m not even asking you to choose me. I’m asking you to choose yourself. Because they won’t.”
Liam’s expression shuts down, and I know I’ve gone too far, but I don’t care.
He walks back to the window, looking out over the Singapore skyline. “Well, luckily,” he says, voice barely audible, “I’m not forcing them to choose.”