Because of You (Swanson Court Series Book 5) Page 21

  “You have no reason to be.”

  “I wish I had your confidence.” She comes over and plants a kiss on my lips. My hands linger on her back, reluctant to let her go.

  There’s a question in her eyes, all the things we’re avoiding.

  “You’ll be great,” I tell her, releasing her. “I’ll see you after.”

  “I can’t wait.” Her voice is soft, then she laughs. “I keep thinking I’ll need the consolation.”

  “You won’t, Liz.” I blow her a kiss. “Break a leg.”

  In the auditorium, there are critics, people from the production company, and investors. It’s more packed than most previews, but that has a lot to do with Liz and how hungry her public is to see her.

  I know the night will be perfect.

  I know Liz’s performance will be extraordinary, even more so than during rehearsals.

  I see Landon and Rachel take their places in the audience. They can’t see me. Look inside your heart, Rachel had said.

  In my heart, I can see that I don’t want to be without Liz, but what does that change if she’s just going to leave me again?

  Reed waves at me from across the stage. I wave back and he gives me two thumbs up.

  The orchestra starts to play. Reed calls places as the actors arrived backstage. The curtain opens and I wait for Liz to take over the stage.

  Like she has taken over my heart.

  “There are a few articles online,” Liz announces the next morning, sipping from a glass of orange juice. “My assistant sent me a few links.”

  “What do they say?”

  She responds with a nonchalant shrug. “The usual.”

  I burst out laughing. Most of the critics won’t publish their thoughts on the play till opening night, but a few hints and teasers have made their way to the pages of most of the widely read publications, and the effusive praise is far from the usual.

  “I can’t believe how modest you are.” I scroll through my phone and read from one article.

  Liz McKay left a vacuum when she left the stage, a vacuum it seemed only she could fill. Her return to Broadway meets our expectations and then some. Catch her sublime performance in The Break of Day at the Shermann Theater from September Seventeenth.

  She smiles happily. “A vacuum.”

  “The city has missed you, it seems.”

  “And I missed it,” she sighs. “Being on that stage, Aidan, it felt like coming home.”

  Not enough to make you stay.

  “Landon and Rachel want us to spend the day with them on Saturday. At Windbreakers. Do you want to come?”

  Suddenly, she looks vulnerable. “Do you want me to come?”

  “Yes, I want you to come, and the children will erupt with joy, and Rachel and Landon will appreciate it very much as will Wilson and Betsy. So… Will you come?”

  She nods. “I will.”

  Landon sends a town car for us on Saturday morning. Since I’m too exhausted to drive anyway, I don’t mind. Liz is wearing loose pants and a flowery top that exposes her shoulders, with a thick cashmere sweater over one hand.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I tell her in the car. “What am I supposed to do throughout this long drive?”

  She giggles. “What were you planning to do?”

  “Get in your pants.”

  She turns a shocked glance at the driver, who can’t hear a word we’re saying because he has earplugs in.

  “What? We’ll be quiet.”

  “No way,” she laughs. “You’re crazy.”

  I grin unrepentantly. “You’re irresistible.”

  “I know.” She leans over and plants a long kiss on my lips. “I love you, Aidan Court.”

  My eyes close and I expel a breath.

  I love you more than life, Liz McKay.

  She owns me.

  She always will.

  Don’t leave me, Liz.

  I want to beg.

  I want to give her everything again, even though I don’t know how long it will be before she throws it back in my face.

  When we arrive at the house, the kids are excited to see a new face. They demand Liz’s attention, and she ends up on the beach, playing fetch with the boys and the dog.

  I watch Damien jumping around Liz’s legs, looking up at her with an adoring expression.

  “I think you have competition,” Landon teases, handing me a drink with ice floating at the top. “Damien is definitely more attractive than you are.”

  “I’m not arguing that.” I watch Preston throw the ball to Damien who catches it and hands it to Liz. “He’s got it as bad as his uncle.”

  “So,” Landon gives me a serious look. “Is she still leaving?”

  I nod, trying to ignore the pain. “She hasn’t said anything about staying.”

  Landon sighs. “It doesn’t have to be the end if she leaves.”

  “I know that,” I reply, “Or at least I think I do. But if I can’t make it work while we’re here together, how am I going to make it work when we’re miles apart?”

  Rachel emerges from the house and takes in the scene on the beach.

  “Awww,” she croons. “This is sweet.” She takes a few pictures then comes to sit with us. “Why the sad faces?” she declares. “Come on, Penny’s finally asleep. Let’s all go for a walk.”

  The boys love it. We walk along the beach while they run after Scribbles, who barks joyously at all the activity.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” Liz says.

  “More so in the summer,” Rachel smiles at her. “Are you nervous about opening night?”

  Liz makes a face. “A little.”

  “Well, judging from that preview, you’ll blow them away.”

  Liz looks at me and I shrug. “I told you.”

  She smiles softly, and in that moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world. “You did.”

  Why do I feel like my heart is tearing?

  Don’t leave, Liz.

  I love you.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Liz

  We’re still walking along the beach when Damien runs back to join us and Rachel scoops him up. He’s a sweet little kid, more like his mother than his father and uncle, unlike Preston who is a little copy of Landon.

  Damien gives me a shy smile. “Liz, are you Uncle Aidan’s girlfriend?”

  I turn to look at Aidan and he chuckles. “Yes, she is.”

  I’m almost too happy to notice the cute glare Damien shoots at his uncle. “Ohkay. I guess I’ll marry someone else, then.” He wriggles down from his mother’s arms and runs back to Preston, who has the knowing expression of the big brother who guessed right.

  “Awww.” I watch Damien take his brother’s comforting hand. “Did I just turn down his proposal?”

  “Broke his little heart too,” Aidan says, shaking his head. “How could you?”

  “He’ll get over it.” Landon laughs. “Aidan used to fall in love with his nannies and propose in the first week, then when they scolded him, he’d go, I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

  I can’t help chortling with amusement. “I don’t believe it.”

  Aidan glares at Landon. “Because it’s not true.”

  “It is,” Landon continues, still laughing. “Of course, that was before…” he stops and gives Aidan an apologetic look.

  Before their mother died, and he stopped speaking.

  Nobody says it, but the tragedy hangs in the air like the ghost of an albatross, even so many years later. Rachel squeezes Landon’s hand and they exchange a smile. Aidan turns to gaze at the water.

  “Why don’t we go back?” he suggests. “I think we walked far enough. Boys!” he calls out. “Race you to the house.”

  They shout in glee and start running. Aidan runs slowly enough so they can catch up and run past him.

  After lunch out on the terrace with the Hayes, the old couple who’re like parents to Landon and Aidan, the children go to bed for a nap and L
andon and Rachel disappear too.

  “They won’t be back for a while,” Aidan tells me, a dirty grin lighting up his face.

  I try to keep myself from giggling. “You have such a dirty mind.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” He holds up his hands and tries to look innocent. “You assumed. Who has a dirty mind now?”

  I cock my head. “I still have sand between my toes. I’m sure you do too. Maybe we should take a shower or something.”

  His eyes narrow. “Is that an invitation?”

  I rise and head inside the house. “What do you think?” I say over my shoulder.

  Aidan is already behind me. “I accept your invitation.”

  He scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder like a caveman. I’m still laughing when he takes me to his room and sets me down in the bathroom. Then he undresses me, and laughter is the last thing on my mind.

  We leave in the evening. Landon, Rachel and the children wave from the front of the house as the same driver takes us back to the city.

  Aidan dismisses the driver after he drops us off in the underground garage of my building. He follows me up to my apartment, but at the door he makes no move to enter.

  Running my hand down the front of his shirt, I watch his eyes darken. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  Smiling, he shakes his head. “You need to rest, and you won’t if I spend the night.”

  I give him a look. “That sounds like an idea I want to test out.”

  He laughs. “Seriously though, I need you to forget about everything tonight, just the play. Don’t think about me, or anybody’s expectations. Can you do that?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  “Right.” He gives me a light kiss on my lips. “Tomorrow Liz.”

  I sigh. “Tomorrow.”

  I watch him walk to the elevator, then I try to do as he asked, taking a long bath and sighing with satisfaction as hot water soaks through my limbs, warming the parts of me that still ache from his lovemaking.

  How am I going to live without him?

  And why?

  Think about the play, Liz. Not Aidan, Not tonight.

  I close my eyes and try to stop thinking. I bury my thoughts in my character, and it works for a while, but when I go to sleep, I’m thinking about Aidan.

  The play runs for two hours and thirty minutes. When the final curtain comes down, there’s a moment of silence, a silence so deep that it’s possible to hear a pin drop, then the audience erupts in thunderous applause.

  The curtain comes up again and Aidan joins us on stage. He sweeps me up in his arms and kisses me deeply.

  Like he doesn’t care who is watching.

  I don’t care either.

  “You were spectacular,” he exclaims, holding on to me as we walk to the front of the stage with the rest of the cast. We bow amidst the applause and a few people throw flowers. We stand there waving for a few minutes before the curtain comes down for the final time and we go backstage.

  People are hugging each other and laughing. It’s pandemonium. All the people with a backstage pass, eager to chat, to congratulate me, to ask me questions. I find Aidan’s eyes in the crowd and when he sees how tired I am, he comes to my side, helping me shut down most of the conversations.

  After the last of the critics and fans and investors have gone on to the after party, I go to my dressing room to change. I wonder what I’ll do now, after I leave the play. I don’t think I’ll work. I’d like to travel. I could go to France or Switzerland and work on my French.

  Without Aidan.

  Without him, nothing seems attractive.

  There are flowers on all the surfaces in my room. On my dressing mirror a huge bouquet of white lilies occupies center space. From Aidan.

  I touch a soft petal and sigh at the velvety texture.

  There’s a knock on my door. I open it expecting Aidan, but it’s Lucy, my recently hired assistant for the production.

  “Your car is here to take you to the party,” she informs me.

  When I get to the ballroom at the Concord, the venue for the party, a cheer erupts in the crowd, I return the smiles, wondering where Aidan is. He enters the room a few moments behind me and when I turn around our gazes meet.

  I love him so much.

  He smiles at me, making something ache in my chest, then comes over to kiss me again. Lots of pictures and toasts follow, and I drink so much champagne I stop feeling tired.

  After a while, the reviews start to come in, and as Aidan predicted, they are overwhelmingly positive. Each new one that goes online cause a cheer to go through the room. It’s beautiful.

  A few hours into the party, Aidan comes up behind me and I turn to face him. “Congratulations,” I tell him.

  He pulls me close. “It was all you.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Are we going to dodge each other’s compliments all night or are we going to get out of here, together?”

  I place my hand in his. “Let’s go.”

  We sneak out of the hotel through a side entrance. Aidan gives me his coat and we walk along the sidewalk. I let my hair fall into my face and it works. Nobody recognizes me.

  At my apartment, there are no paparazzi, they’re all waiting at the hotel thinking I’m still at the party.

  We enter the building, kissing. In my apartment, I offer him a drink, watching as he unbuttons his dress shirt and undoes his cuffs before taking a sip. I drink mine, still watching him.

  “What are you looking at?” he asks, after a while.

  “You. Every sexy inch of you.”

  He takes my drink from me and sets it on a table along with his. “Come here.”

  I walk into his arms. He runs his hands over my shoulders and arms, then turns me around and removes my jewelry before undoing the zipper of my dress. His fingers graze my back and I tremble.

  He kisses the back of my neck, his lips making a sweet trail along my skin before he turns me to face him. “You will ruin me, Liz. If I lose you now, I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “Don’t you see?” His voice is low. “You’ve made me your slave again. All I do is think of you. You’re intoxicating, and I can’t bear to imagine not having you.”

  I bury my face in his chest. Allowing myself to hope, to fantasize, to imagine that future I’ve dreamed about. Me and him together. His arms tighten around me and I melt and moan his name.

  “You’re temptation, and punishment…and I’m helpless to resist.” He kisses me again, and there’s a frantic intensity in his kiss, a hunger that makes me forget everything but how it feels to be in his arms.

  “I need you.” The words fall out of my lips with an urgency I can’t mask. “I need you so much.”

  My dress falls to the ground. His clothes follow and then he carries me to my bedroom. He covers my body with his and covers every inch of my skin with kisses, bringing me to a fever pitch with his touch.

  By the time he pushes my legs apart and plunges into me, my body is almost fluid with pleasure and heat. He makes love to me, fast, and then slow, bringing me to a climax again and again until I fall into an exhausted sleep in his arms.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Aidan

  I stay all night. The next morning when I wake up, Liz is not in bed. For one frantic moment I’m convinced she is gone, just like the last time, but then I see her standing at the door to the balcony, wearing a cream silk robe that reaches down to her knees.

  “Good morning.”

  I stretch and notice I’d tossed the covers off sometime before waking. I’m naked, with the sheets tangled around my legs. “How long have you been ogling me Liz?”

  She laughs. “Longer than I care to admit.”

  I leave the bed and walk over to her, still naked. I grab her waist and press her body against mine, covering her face with kisses.

  She giggles and dodges my kisses. “Get dressed.”

  “Ar
e you sure?” I untie her robe. Underneath, she’s wearing just a wisp of silk panties.

  “Yes.” Her voice sounds breathless. She escapes from my embrace, her face pink as she gestures toward the food laid out on a low table on the balcony. “Let’s eat. I don’t know about you, but I need food every once in a while.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You mean feasting on me isn’t enough?”

  She tries not to laugh but doesn’t succeed. With a smile, I steal another kiss before heading to the bathroom.

  I join her later, wearing my briefs and a bathrobe I found in her bathroom. She reads the reviews from the night before, grinning in delight at every little word of praise for the play.

  In the afternoon, I leave for the theater, and in the evening, once again, Liz kills it with her spectacular performance.

  This time we go to my place, I fix her dinner, and we eat, make love and fall asleep. Hours later, I wake up and watch her sleep by the light filtering in from the windows.

  She looks more beautiful asleep than she does when she’s awake. Her skin is alabaster smooth, her lips soft and parted as she breathes softly.

  Who am I without you?

  I don’t say the words out loud, but I think them. Those seven years without Liz, I was an empty shell, if she leaves again, I won’t even have my resentment or my supposed hatred.

  Who would I be then?

  She stirs, then opens her eyes and catches me watching her. “Apparently, I’m not the only one who likes to ogle,” she murmurs sleepily, stretching like a cat.

  “Perfection should be admired.”

  “It means the world that you think I’m perfect.”

  “The whole world thinks you’re perfect.”

  Her eyes soften. “But I only care about your opinion.”

  I reach up and stroke her hair, then place a soft kiss on her lips. Just then, her phone beeps.

  “Sorry.” She gives me an apologetic smile and reaches for the phone. “I set an alert for when the Steven Dash review goes online.”