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“I need to talk to you,” he said urgently, grabbing her hands and looking nervously behind him again.
“What’s going on? Did Mack talk to you?”
She knew she should have told them both about the baby sooner. Her heart galloped as she waited for his answer, but he didn’t say a word. Instead he pulled her behind him down the path between the stalls. Other contestants watched them as they went.
“Liam, what are you—”
“Just a second. I want to get us somewhere private.”
“Okay, but Painter and I are on soon. The junior competition will be over in half an hour, so I can’t be gone too long—”
Liam just kept pulling her along until they were underneath the stands of the arena.
“Liam,” Calla said, tugging on the hand he was firmly gripping. “Talk to me.”
It was dim underneath the stands, but she could still see the tension on his face.
“I have something to tell you.” Liam finally said. “I want you to hear it from me first.” He looked around anxiously.
Um. Wasn’t that supposed to be her line?
“You’re scaring me.” She grabbed both of Liam’s hands. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Her eyes widened in fear. Oh God, what if he’d been diagnosed with something—
“No, no,” Liam shook his head rapidly and Calla felt almost lightheaded with relief. “Nothing like that.” He took a deep breath. “The thing is, I have a lot of money. Like, a lot.”
Calla blinked. What was he going on about? “So?”
Liam stared at her like he was waiting for some big reaction. “I’m a billionaire. Back in Ireland, me da owns Prism Media group. They’re the conglomerate that bought out half the European and Australian news companies and even one of the bigger American news corporations.”
Calla gave a tiny shake of her head. Where was he going with all this? “I know,” she said. “So?”
Liam frowned and pulled back a little. “What do you mean, you know?”
“Uh,” she shook her head, “yeah. You’re Liam O’Neill. Son of actress Ailis Duncan. Well, she became Ailis O’Neill, after she married your dad. But yeah. I know who you are.”
Liam jerked to his feet, staring down at Calla like she’d suddenly sprouted horns.
“What?” she asked, standing up and reaching for him, but he jerked his hand back.
“How do you know?”
She threw her hands in the air and shrugged. “I don’t know. They showed that movie, Irish Spring, the one that won all those awards, in the world cinema class I took in college. It was my favorite elective.”
Liam took another step back from her and raked a hand through his hair.
Calla didn’t know why he was so freaked out, but she kept going. “When I saw you at the bar last year, I thought you looked familiar. The more I thought about it, I finally realized who you reminded me of. Your mom. You look so much like her. When I googled her, I saw a picture of you two. You must have been a teenager when it was taken.” She smiled and lifted a hand toward him. “You had the most adorable floppy hair—”
“Stop!” he yelled. Calla flinched and her eyes flew open as he wrenched away. “What? I—”
“You fucking knew who I was? This whole time?” He looked at her and it was like his eyes were pleading for her to say no. But she wasn’t going to lie about something so silly.
“Yeah. I’ve known the whole time.” She shook her head. “I didn’t realize—” She felt completely bewildered. “Is it some big secret?”
“Yes,” he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’ve known,” he whispered, more like he was talking to himself than to her. “You’ve known all along.”
“That first time we had sex in the shower, you knew.” His eyes flashed and he shoved an accusatory finger in her face. “You lied,” he said. “You couldn’t believe what had just happened because, and I quote, you’re you. I asked you what you meant and you made up some bullshit about liking me laugh.”
Calla’s mouth dropped open. “It wasn’t your laugh. I said I like how you made other people laugh.”
