Lovestruck Forever (15 page)

I
nodded, somehow comforted by her straight-talking strategy. I liked
the fact that she wasn’t trying to over sell it, wasn’t
assuring me we’d sell the book, and wasn’t promising me
that my relationship with Thomas would have nothing to do with any of
it. She was being honest and frank, and I liked that about her.
Unlike my meeting with Ellen and Bill, I didn’t feel like she
was trying to put one over on me.

“That
sounds good,” I told her, relief rushing through me.
I
could work with her,
I
thought.
I really
could.

Ciara
grinned at me. “I’m glad to hear it. Now. Let’s
talk about what we’ll do with your book.”

I
left the restaurant more than an hour later, my head swimming with
the details of our conversation. Ciara had walked me through her
process, how we would work together to clean up the manuscript to
both of our satisfaction before she started the task of shopping it
to publishers. She outlined her contacts in the business, assuring me
that she was sufficiently placed to put my book in front of plenty of
eyes. Then we discussed the kind of publishing house that I would
want to work with—what level of attention and promotion I was
comfortable with.

The
best part of the conversation was the way that she explained things
to me. She was incredibly straight-forward and detailed, clearly not
assuming that I was in any way knowledgeable about the industry but
also not talking down to me or making me feel stupid. In short, I
felt very comfortable with her. I trusted her. Just like Thomas had
reminded me would best suit me. When we left the restaurant, she told
me she would send me a contract for her to represent me and I should
take some time to make sure I was comfortable with it before
agreeing. I promised her I would, but I knew, without a doubt, I was
going to sign it.

The
car I had arrived in was waiting for me at the curb, the shorter of
the two bodyguards leaning against the hood, waiting for me. I
stifled a groan, wanting nothing more than to walk the few blocks to
Thomas’s flat. There was no paparazzi waiting outside for me,
and the brisk air felt good on my over-excited, over-heated face.
Besides, I was way too anxious and keyed up to sit still. But I had
promised Thomas…when the man gestured me toward the car, I
went without argument.

As
soon as I was buckled in, I pulled out my phone, and speed-dialed
Thomas. He answered on the second ring. “Lizzie?”

“It
was awesome, Thomas!” I cried, not even bothering with a hello.
“I loved her!”

“That’s
wonderful!” I could hear voices in the background, and I
flinched, realizing that I had pulled him from his meeting.

“Can
you talk?” I asked, crossing my fingers that he could spare a
few minutes.

“Of
course!” He must have left the room because the background
noise faded away. “I told them I was expecting an important
call that couldn’t be missed. Tell me all about it!”

“She
was great. Totally straight-forward, not at all patronizing. I felt
really comfortable talking to her.”

“That’s
fantastic! That’s the most important thing.”

“She’s
going to send me a contract to review, but I’m ready to sign
her right now.”

“Now,
Lizzie, you need to be smart,” he said sternly, and I struggled
not to giggle. He sounded exactly like his father when he put on his
serious, business adviser voice. “We’re going to look it
over carefully together, ask Heidi for her opinion, and get my lawyer
to read through it. I absolutely insist.”

“Okay,
Dad.”

“I’m
serious, Lizzie. This is your career. We can never be too careful—”

“I
know, Thomas. I agree. We should show it to all of those people. I’m
just saying from my perspective, she’s perfect. Exactly the
kind of agent I want to work with.”

His
tone changed again, happy for me now. “That’s wonderful.
I’m so excited for you, love! We’ll celebrate with dinner
tonight, okay? Just the two of us.”

“Will
you be able to get away?” I asked, not wanting to get my hopes
up too much.

“Absolutely.
We’ll go to Idoni’s, yeah? We haven’t been back
since we left for L.A.”

My
heart soared at his suggestion. Callie and I had lived in the flat
over the Idoni’s Italian restaurant during our study abroad. We
had become close with the owners, and it didn’t hurt that they
made exceptionally good food. “Definitely,” I told him,
unable to wipe the grin off my face.

“I
should go,” he sounded regretful. “We’ll talk much
more about this tonight, okay? I want all the particulars.”

“Okay.
Thanks, Thomas.”

“For
what?”

For
taking my call during a meeting with some of the most powerful men in
the entertainment industry
,
I thought.
For
encouraging me to take the meeting. For giving me the motivation I
needed to finish the book in the first place. For believing I was
worth this.

“For
everything,” I told him instead. “Thank you for
everything.”

Our
two weeks in Detroit before Thomas had to be back for shooting seemed
to fly by. I came home with a newfound determination to take charge
of my wedding planning. Thomas came with me to speak to my parents
about my desire to make more of the decisions myself. My mom seemed
mortified that I didn’t feel involved. “Didn’t the
girls text you pictures of the flowers?” she asked in dismay.

I
looked to Thomas, and he nodded at me encouragingly. “They did,
Mom. But the options they gave me aren’t what I would have
chosen in the first place.”

“Why
didn’t you say?”

“Come
on, Mom. You know it’s hard enough to rein Maria in when you’re
standing right next to her. How could I do it from across the ocean?”

“Oh
dear,” she said worriedly.

“I
have two weeks before I have to be back in London,” Thomas said
easily, patting her shoulder. “Why don’t the three of us
go do some shopping?”

So
we did just that, visiting florists and bakers and wedding band
leaders. It was much easier for me to make decisions now that I had
the experience of shopping with Imogen. And now that Maria was no
longer breathing down my neck. In the end, we decided to stick with
the caterer they had chosen—they were relatively cheap for my
dad’s budget, and they were one of the few places that our hall
allowed—but we went a completely different way with the
flowers, invitations, and cake. The cake we found wasn’t quite
as beautiful as the one from London, but it was much more my style
than the generic pink-flowered cake the girls had picked out.

“You
were right, Lizzie,” Thomas told me the Saturday before he was
due to leave.

“Right
about what?”

He
flopped onto the couch in the den. “Wedding planning is much
more complicated than I gave it credit for.”

I
sat down next to him, moving to massage his shoulders. “Poor
Thomas. Are you wiped out from all the scary shopping?”

“Ha
ha,” he muttered. Faster than I could believe him capable, he
grabbed my hands and pulled me onto his lap. “Why do you tease
me when I’m working so hard to make you happy?”

“Thomas,
please. You spent the day driving my mother and me around to bakeries
and eating samples of all the delicious cakes. How difficult of a day
did you really have?”

“But
I wanted to be making out with you,” he said petulantly as he
deftly unbuttoned my cardigan. “And I couldn’t because
your mom was there. That made the day
very
difficult.”

I
laughed, but he silenced me with a kiss before gently pushing me down
onto my back against the couch cushions.

“We
should make dinner,” I said weakly.

“Hush,”
he murmured against my skin. “I’m busy making out with
you.”

I
laughed again, the sound cutting off abruptly when he moved his lips
to my collarbone. “I guess making out isn’t the worst way
to spend an evening.”

Before
he could succeed in more than pulling my cardigan off my shoulders,
the doorbell rang. “Of course,” Thomas groaned against my
neck.

“I
should get that,” I said, smoothing his curly hair with my
fingers.

“We
could ignore it,” he suggested hopefully. Before I could
respond, the doorbell rang again, followed by the loud trill of my
cellphone.

I
frowned. “Someone really wants to get ahold of us.” I
gently pushed Thomas away, smiling regretfully as he groaned in
protest. “Sorry, babe. I’ll be right back.”

I
grabbed the phone from the coffee table as I pulled my cardigan back
into place. “It’s Sofie,” I said, relief rushing
through me as I checked the screen. I had barely heard from her since
I’d been home and had been starting to get worried. “Sof?”
I asked the moment the call connected.

“I’m
at your front door.” Her voice was very strained, as if she was
doing everything she could to keep from crying. “I’ve
been knocking, didn’t you hear me?”

“She’s
here,” I mouthed to Thomas, immediately turning to jog toward
the door. “Hang on, Sof,” I told her. “I’ll
be right there.”

I
found her standing on my porch, her face very pale and blotchy. There
was a duffle bag at her feet.

“Oh
my God,” I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth. “They
kicked you out?”

She
shook her head, but more tears sprung to her eyes. “No, I
left.” She let out a little sob. “Can I come in?”

“Of
course!” I opened the door wider, grabbing her bag from the
ground and pulling on her elbow. “God, Sof, you look awful.
Come sit down. What do you need?”

I
led her out of the foyer while she continued to make gaspy little
sobs. I saw Thomas stick his head out of the den from down the hall,
his eyes immediately going wide at the sight of Sofie and her bag. I
just shook my head at him as I steered her into the living room,
pushing her down onto the couch. “What happened?”

“They
freaked out,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “Not
that I was surprised, but God, Lizzie.” A whimpering sound came
from behind her hands. “My mom said I broke her heart.”

Shit
.
“I’m sorry, Sof. That’s a terrible thing for her to
say to you.”

“I
know they’re disappointed,” she wailed, moving her hands
away to stare at me, wide-eyed. “I get it; I let them down. But
you would think they could put that aside for two minutes to realize
that I’m scared out of my mind! A little support isn’t
too much to ask for, is it?”

“No,”
I told her firmly. “Of course it’s not.”

She
leaned back into the cushions. “She just kept crying. Like,
hello, Mom, I’m the one having a baby.”

I
rubbed her arm, wishing I could comfort her but knowing she needed to
get this out.

“And
my dad.” She shuddered a little. “He looked like I
slapped him, Lizzie. I’ve never seen him like that, I swear to
God. When I told him I wasn’t getting married—” she
trailed off, another sob escaping.

“I
thought he’d be the one that was pissed, you know?” she
asked. “I thought he would yell or…something. But he
just looked so fucking…sad. Like I let him down. And my
mom…she was like, hysterical, Lizzie. You would have thought I
was telling her that I committed murder or something.”

“They’re
too set in their ways,” I told her. “Way too old
fashioned.”

“I
just…I guess part of me had hoped that they would be able to
get over all that. I thought, when they saw how scared I was, their
love for me might somehow let them put aside their medieval
attitude.”

I
was filled with a sudden rage that they hadn’t—how could
they not see that she was terrified? How could they be so selfish?

“What
happened when you told them that you were leaving?”

Her
expression was almost guilty. “I didn’t.”

“Sofie—”

“I’ll
call them, okay? I just…I needed to get out of there, and I
couldn’t deal with them again.” She shook her head.
“After they spent twenty minutes freaking out, I went upstairs
and started packing. And when I went downstairs again to tell them I
was going, I could hear them in the kitchen—my mom was still
crying. Going on and on about what she was supposed to say to the
family.” Her eyes flashed as she looked at me. “That’s
all they care about. What everyone else thinks. How it will make them
look.”

“If
they really think that, then they’re stupid, Sofie. Your
well-being and happiness is more important than their reputation.”

She
made a sound half way between a snort and a sob. “Yeah, well,
they clearly don’t feel the same way. When I heard that, I just
had to get out of there. So I came here.” She looked suddenly
worried. “I hope that’s okay. I know I should have called
but—”

“Don’t
be silly. Of course you should have come here. And you can stay for
as long as you want.” I paused. “But you do need to let
them know where you are. They might be upset right now, but you know
they’ll worry about you.”

She
looked away, wiping her eyes. Right on cue, my phone rang. I pulled
it from the pocket I had stuck it in and looked at the screen. “Speak
of the devil…”

She
held up her hands. “I’m not talking to them.”

“Okay.
But I should answer it. I’ll just tell them that you’re
here and you’re okay, all right?”

My
aunt was clearly panicked. I tried to speak as calmly as I could,
telling her Sofie was right here and she was fine. “No, she
doesn’t want to talk right now, Tia.”

“Lizzie,
you have to put her on the phone,” she sobbed. “She can’t
just run away from home; she needs to be here. We need to talk about
this—”

“Tia,
I think we all need to calm down,” I said as firmly as I could.
I was never good at talking back to my older relatives. “Sofie
is very upset, and I know you and Uncle Tomas are as well. A little
distance might help everyone to gather their thoughts.”