Page 34 of Something Forever

“Don’t worry about it.”

The rest of the flight is less eventful. Liam reads his book and says nothing else about my panic attack. I distract myself with Netflix and avoid thinking about the warm feeling of Liam’s arm pressing against mine.

A few hours later, the pilot announces that we’re landing, and my whole body tenses once again. I don’t know if I can handle another panic attack right now. I will definitely cry, and any ounce of dignity I have left will be completely shredded.

Suddenly, I feel Liam’s large, warm hand wrapping around mine. He brushes his thumb against the back of my hand.

“Does this help at all?”

All I can manage is a slight nod, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of my hand. Such a small movement should not be causing this kind of reaction in me — my heart is still racing, but for an entirely different reason.

“You can lean on me if you want. I dunno. Whatever would make you feel better, or if I can help somehow… ” He looks more unsure than usual, his brow furrowed as he gazes down at me. Something about the doubtful hope in his expression cracks through my anxiety.

“Thanks,” I whisper, closing my eyes and resting my head against his shoulder. I do the same deep breathing he coached me through earlier and it really helps. That and the feeling of his hand on mine, his fingers still brushing soft circles on the back of my hand.

For just a moment, I’m not so scared.

13

LIAM

We land in Vegas in the early afternoon and go straight to the hotel. Whitney passes out in the cab ride over, unsurprising as she didn’t sleep at all on the flight. She was too busy freaking out.

I had no idea how to handle something like that. Luke was always the supportive guy, the guy you’d want around in a bad situation. I, on the other hand, am a fucking mess when it comes to emotions. So, when Whitney started having what I can only assume was a panic attack, I just made stuff up based on films I’ve seen. People always say to breathe, and the counting thing made sense in the moment. It seemed to help her, and God knows why, but I really, really wanted to help her in that moment. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or maybe it was the threat of tears, but I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

We pull up to Caesars Palace, and I nudge her awake. “Did you have to book us at the biggest place?”

She shrugs. “Go big or go home, baby. It’s Vegas.”

I blink heavily. This girl surprises me more and more every time she opens her mouth.

The hotel is huge, and the lobby is a whirlwind of activity. Whitney makes us stop on the way to take a picture with a Roman warrior before we check in, and I have to urge her multiple times to stay on task, pulling her away from distraction after distraction.

When we get to the desk, the girl behind the desk pulls up our reservation, which I discover is for only one room.

I turn to Whitney. “Seriously? You only got one room?”

She smiles brightly at the girl checking us in before grabbing my arm and pulling me to the side. “How suspicious would it be for a married couple to have separate rooms? What if the cops come after us and start asking questions?” she whisper-yells at me.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit intense about all this?”

She looks me dead in the eye. “I’m being thorough, Liam. Be glad I got us two beds, and let’s hope the feds don’t come sniffing.”

Shaking my head, I follow her as she turns back to the desk. She finishes checking us in, and I grab our bags. On the lift, I lean down and breathe against the back of her neck. “Any other precautions I should know about? Think the feds will find us if we don’t consummate the marriage?”

She shoves me, and I stumble to the side with laughter.

“Not funny,” she mutters.

We walk down the hallway until we find our room. I tap my key and open the door, stepping back and gesturing for her to go ahead. I follow her into the room, and I don’t know why I’m surprised when I see that there is in fact only one bed.

One king-sized bed in the center of the room.

“What the hell?” I say, but I doubt Whitney can hear it over her own laughter. I turn to her, and she’s bent over, slapping her knee like a crazy person.

“Of course. Of course it’s one bed.”

“What’s so funny?” I ask her.

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