“And we have your list to work on,” he adds.
“My list?”
“Yeah, I’m going to help you complete it.”
“You are?”
“I am.” He smiles.
“And what if I don’t want you to help me?” Shit, that came out sounding a little sharper than I intended. “I don’t mean, I don’t like fucking you because I do. I like it a lot…but beyond that, I can’t do any more.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes darkening. “I don’t do more than fucking. But you’re alone in this country, and you seem like you could use a friend while you’re here. How long are you here for?”
“Two weeks.” Then, I go home to die.
He runs his fingertip over my lips. “So, we’ll keep fucking for the two weeks you’re here because, for some unknown reason, my cock likes you a lot. And when we’re not fucking, I’ll help you complete your list.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’m a charitable kind of guy.” He lifts a shoulder, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“My PA is always telling me I need a holiday. This can be my holiday.”
“Helping me complete my list is a holiday to you?”
“We’ll be fucking in that time, too.”
“Of course, because the fucking is very important.”
“It is very important.” He slides a hand down my side, grabbing my thigh. Then, he hitches my leg over his hip and presses himself against me.
He’s hard.
“Again?” I question.
A smile lifts his lips. “I’ve only got two weeks’ worth of fucking you. So, yes, again.”
He’s right about that. We don’t have longer than two weeks.
Maybe I don’t even have that left.
We’re lying side by side after a very active second round of sex with me riding Liam, which contributed to us both coming hard and fast.
“Tell me about the list.”
I turn my head on the pillow to look at him. He turns his face toward me, meeting my eyes.
“Tell you what? You’ve already seen it.”
“But why the list? What’s the reason for writing it?”
He wants a reason. It’s not like I can go with the whole truth, so I go with a half-truth.
I stare up at the ceiling. “When I was sixteen, I had a brain tumor. It was…aggressive. There was a point when I wasn’t sure I was going to survive. So, I wrote the list with all the things I’d never done with the hope that I’d survive and be able to do them.”
And, now, all I want is to die. Ironic, huh?
“And here you are.” His hand touches mine.
I move my eyes back to him. “Yeah,” I exhale. But I shouldn’t be here. I should have died then. If I had, then they would still be here, living and breathing.
One life for four. I would trade mine in a heartbeat.
“Why wait so long to do the things on the list?”
I look away again. “Some things…happened. There was just never a right time.” I lift a shoulder to downplay my words.
But there’s nothing to downplay the fact that my family died because of me.
He brushes my hair off my face with his hand, bringing my eyes back to his. “Why is now the right time?”
Because the tumor is back, and I’m ready to die. I’m ready to join my family. I just want to do a few things before I go.
He’s staring at me, curious and tender, and I really need him to stop.
My eyes go back to the ceiling. “Because…it’s just time.”
I know his eyes are still on me. I feel exposed. And I don’t like it at all. Liam’s a smart man. He’ll know there’s more to it than what I’m saying. But, right now, I need him to be smart enough to realize that I don’t want to talk about me.
So, I fake a smile on my face and go to change the subject, hoping he goes along with it. The art of deflection—I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years. “So, Mr. Mega-Rich Businessman, tell me how you became so successful.” I slide a glance at him, that forced smile still on my face.
I know what’s in the public domain about Liam. I knew a little about him already—he’s a name people know—but I wanted to know more, so I Googled him earlier. Call me nosy, but I was curious about the man who was about to come and stick his dick in me for the second time.
Liam Hunter made his money in airplanes after setting up a small private chartered airplane company that flew rich business people all over the world.
Soon after, he expanded, investing in larger airplanes and moving into the travel industry—vacations, long-haul flights, that kind of thing. A few years later, he bought out a failing hotel chain, rebranded it, and turned it around, making it a big success. Those hotels of his are all over the world.
A few years after buying the hotel chain, he went in a different direction and set up Hunter Finance—credit cards, loans, mortgages—and from there, he built a financial empire.
Liam has the Midas touch in business—not my words. It was a quote from an article I read about him.
I really don’t know how the guy has time to sleep.
His expression doesn’t change. He just shrugs and says, “Because I’m awesome. And because I treat business like I treat fucking.”
I turn on my side, so I’m facing him, putting my hands under my cheek. “And how’s that?”
A smile slides onto his lips. “A mutually beneficial transaction where I make the other party feel good about what they’re getting. They leave with a smile on their face, and I still come out on top.”
That makes me laugh.
“Why airplanes?” I ask, intrigued. Honestly, if I were to set up a business, that would be the last thing I would think of going into.
“Because I love to fly. There’s nothing more freeing than being in the air.”
“There’s nothing more likely to kill you than plummeting from thirty-thousand feet.” Well, except for a growing tumor in your brain.
He gives me a disapproving look. “Babe, you’re statistically more likely to die in a car crash on the way to the airport than you are in an airplane.”
“Still, I’ll take my chances in a car. At least I’d be on the ground.”
“Crushed and mangled in a car wreck.”
Laughter bursts from me. “Quite a picture you paint.”
He grins at me. It’s such a boyish grin, making him look years younger than the thirty-two I know him to be.
“Boston, I’ll have you loving flying before you head back home to Boston.”
“That was a lot of Bostons for one sentence. And, as for the flying, I highly doubt it, but thanks.” Smiling, I free a hand from under my cheek and run it through his thick hair.
“Is that your family?” He nods at something over my shoulder.
The smile on my face freezes because I know what he’s looking at.
I have a framed photo of my family on the nightstand. It’s all I have left of them, except for my memories.
I put the picture up last night when I got here after being at his place. It’s the only thing I unpacked.
When I put it up, I didn’t expect Liam to come over here and start asking questions. I should have taken it down before he arrived. I should have thought about it. But I was too worried about what to wear for his imminent arrival.
I wasn’t thinking.
That’s my problem though. I never think.
“Yes, it’s my family.” Turning from him, I get out of bed. I pick the picture up and put it facedown. Moving across the room, I get the hotel-supplied robe from the hook on the back of the door and pull it on.
When I turn back, Liam is sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, sheet pooling around his waist.
“And your family doesn’t mind you jetting halfway across the world on your own?”
“They’re all dead.” The words are out before I can stop them.
I could have said anything. I could’ve lied. Although lying to Liam just doesn’t seem to be something I can do—well, apart from not telling him that I’m dying. That, I definitely won’t be telling him.
I watch as his expression freezes. Then, sympathy and pity fill his eyes.
I hate sympathy and pity. Almost as much as I hate myself.
“Jesus, Taylor, I’m so sorry.” His eyes go to the downturned picture and then come back to me. “How—”
“House fire. They all died in a fire at the house I grew up in. Any more questions?” I snap.
I didn’t mean to snap. It’s not like it’s his fault. It’s mine.
I just…I don’t talk about this. Them. Any of it.
All I want is to see my family again.
I want to bake with my mom. And play catch with my dad. And argue with Parker over the bathroom. I want to tickle Tess just so I can hear her laugh and see her beautiful smile.
But I can’t have that. Because they’re gone. They’re dead.
And all I’ve got is this goddamn list, which I’m going to complete. I’m going to see this city where my mom grew up, the place where she met my dad and they fell in love. I’m going to do all the stupid things that sixteen-year-old me wanted to do…and then I’m going to let this tumor kill me.
And I’ll finally be with them again—where I belong.
Why did I have to stay out that night? Why did I insist on sleeping over at my best friend’s house? Why did I have to ask my mother to wash my favorite hoodie so that I could wear it on the flight we were supposed to take the next day? The flight to bring us to England. Why did the dryer have to have a fault and catch fire? Why did I, a few weeks earlier, have my dad take the batteries out of the fire alarm because it kept going off all the time?
Why couldn’t I have just stayed home?
Why couldn’t I have died at home with them instead of having to die here alone?
Why did any of it have to happen?
The only saving grace I have is that this tumor in my head is soon going to kill me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Liam’s gentle voice brings me back to the now.
My hand is clutching my stomach, and I can feel wetness on my cheeks.
Turning away from him, I brush the tears away. “I’m going to take a shower,” I say, walking toward the bathroom.
“Taylor?”
I turn back to him. The pity’s gone, and I’m relieved. “What?”
He’s staring at me like he wants to say something.
So, I beat him to it. “Look”—I sigh—“I don’t talk about my family—ever. And if we’re going to be spending time together, you need to know that. Okay?”
He nods. “Okay. But…if you ever change your mind…I’m here. I just want you to know that.”
A lump appears in my throat while tears burn my eyes. I nod in response, unable to speak. Averting my eyes, I tighten the robe around my waist.
When I look back up, he’s still watching me. Our eyes hold in silent understanding.
Then, a small smile appears on his lips.
“Well, hurry up and get your hot arse in the shower. And don’t take all day because we have plans.”
“We do?”
“I’m taking you out to start on your list, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” I say before heading into the bathroom, thankful for Liam’s ability to switch moods as easily as I can.
“A hair salon?” I look up at the sign on the shop where Liam’s driver, Paul, has just pulled up in front. “This is where you’re taking me?”
“Dye your hair pink. Or purple. Or some other cool color.”
He remembered it from my list. The list he read once, a day ago on the plane.
I feel oddly touched that he remembered.
“How did you remember that?” I ask, turning to him.
“I remember everything off that list. Especially the, Have lots of sex, and have sex outdoors.” He flashes me a salacious grin.
With my face flaming red, my eyes move to Paul sitting in the driver’s seat. “Jesus, Liam,” I hiss. “Paul is sitting right there. He can hear you.”
“Paul’s not embarrassed, are you?” Liam says, with that damn grin still on his face.
“No, sir.”
“Paul might not be, but I am!” I smack Liam on the arm.
He laughs at me, and then, he opens the car door and takes my hand, pulling me out with him.
“Wait here,” he tells Paul, leaning back in the car.
He shuts the door and leads me toward the hair salon.
“You know, I need an appointment to have my hair colored,” I tell him as he pushes the door to the salon open.
“You’ve got one. I made it for this morning.”
“You made the appointment?” I raise a brow. “Or your assistant did?”
He gives me an offended look. “I made the appointment. A friend of mine owns the salon.”
“Liam!”
I turn to see a stunning woman moving across the salon, quickly heading for us—well, Liam.
She has black hair with these cool purple streaks in them. She’s tall—a lot taller than me, but that isn’t hard. She’s wearing these skinny jeans that look like they were made especially for her and a really pretty fitted shirt.
She’s stunning, and I instantly hate her.
Okay, well, I don’t hate her. I’m just jealous of her natural gorgeousness.
I know I’m not ugly, but I am nowhere in her league.
She throws her arms around Liam, kissing his cheek and hugging him.
It’s clear they’re close.
Maybe as close as Liam and I are.
Liam lets go of my hand, so he can hug her back.
The twinge I feel in my stomach is most definitely not jealousy.
Okay, maybe it’s a little bit of jealousy. Stupid, I know.
I watch them and the way she hugs him. She hugs him in an intimate way. Like they’ve been close before. Like she knows his body the way I know his body.
Jesus, they’ve had sex.
He’s had sex with her.
I can’t believe he brought me to the salon of a woman he used to fuck.
Or maybe still fucks.
The twinge in my stomach tightens into knots.
“It’s been too long since I last saw you,” she tells him. Aside from being gorgeous, she has an awesome English accent.
Her hand is still pressed to his chest, and I have an irrational urge to rip her hand off him.
Down, Taylor.
Jesus, what is going on with me?
I cross my arms over my chest to make sure I don’t do something stupid, like break her fingers.
“When did we last see each other?” she asks him.
“Cam’s birthday.”
“God, yeah, that was six months ago. That was a good night.” She smiles at him. It’s a dreamy kind of smile.
A we-had-sex kind of smile.
Ugh.
“Yeah, it was a good night,” Liam says low. “Megan, this is Taylor,” he finally deems to introduce me.
I hold my silly anger in and smile at her. “Hi,” I say. “You have a really nice place here.”’
I might be suffering from Jealousy 101 and want to punch Liam in the face for bringing to the salon of the woman whose vagina he has intimate knowledge of, but I can’t deny that the salon is nice.
“Thanks.” She smiles at me. It’s a friendly smile. “So, when he called me earlier to book you in, Liam said that you want to dye your hair. What color are you looking to go?”
I finger my dull dark blonde hair, looking at her beautiful shiny black hair. She’s gorgeous, and then I suddenly can’t figure out why Liam is interested in having sex with me.
He’s had sex with someone like her. She’s tall and beautiful and stunning.
And I’m five foot three on a good day. I have a definite ass, but I’m just…mousy.
“Pink,” I
say, going with the first color on my list.
“Cool.” She smiles. “Pink, it is. Are we talking bright pink or light pink? Pastel, like candy-floss pink? That’s all the rage at the moment. That, and gray.”
“Candy floss?”
“Cotton candy,” Liam explains.
“Ah.” I nod. Dude talks my language.
“Well, I’m definitely not going gray. Candy-floss pink,” I tell her.
“Fabulous.” She smiles. “Now, do you want pink highlights or full head?”
“Full head.” If I’m doing this, I’m going to do it properly.
“Okay, well, I’ve got you with Jamie today. He’s my best colorist. He’ll have your hair transformed in no time. He’s a genius with color.”
“Jamie,” she calls over to an Asian guy with a purple Mohawk.
He smiles at me as he approaches.
“Jamie, this is Taylor. Taylor wants to go pastel pink, full head.” Then, she asks me, “Are we just coloring or cutting as well?”
I touch the edges of my hair, which hangs a few inches past my shoulders.
“I could take it up to sit on your shoulders,” Jamie says. “Go for a choppy bob. That would really suit you. You have a great jawline and bone structure. God, I would die for cheekbones like yours.”
I touch a hand to my cheekbones. I didn’t realize there was anything amazing about them. They feel pretty standard to me—you know, as far as cheekbones go.
“You could carry off a choppy bob, no prob. And the cut would look even more fabulous with the color you’re going for. It would really show it off. And the blue of your eyes will really stand out against the color.”
“That sounds great.” I smile.
I would say yes to anything Jamie says. He just sounds so enthusiastic and like he really knows what he’s talking about. And he said I have a great jawline and bone structure, so I really like him.
“Okay, well, let’s get you seated, and we can get started.”
“How long will she be?” Liam asks Megan.
“About three hours, and then she’ll be done.”
Liam comes over to me. “I’ve got to go back to the office, but I’ll be back to pick you up in three hours.”
“Okay.”
My expression is stoic. I can’t bring myself to smile at him because I’m still annoyed that he brought me here.