Page 103 of The Paradise Problem

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 FROM the 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.

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