The Paradise Problem (104)
“You already do.”
“I want all of you. I want to give you everything I have.” His lips linger on mine one more time. “There are no strings attached to what I’m offering,” he tells me. “I just want you. I just want to love you.”
“Unconditionally.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. Liam holds me for several minutes while the reporters mill around outside, the TV drones in the background, and our hearts slow to a steady, tandem beat. I pull back and stroke his jaw with my thumbs. “I’m sorry for what I said in the hotel. Even if I was right, it was harsh.”
“You had to stand up for yourself and that’s what you did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the paintings. You were right. It was controlling.”
“Someone wise taught me that intent matters.”
“Someone?”
“David Green. Mechanic and therapist, apparently. Also, your father-in-law.” I stretch to kiss his smile, and when I pull back, his eyes do a careful circuit of my face. It’s the same way he took me in that morning, so many days ago now, in my apartment, like he’s slowly scanning, taking me in one feature at a time. I know I look like a mess again, but this time, his expression isn’t trying to mask panic. This time, he’s looking at me like he’s seeing everything he wants all wrapped up in a pink, harebrained package.
“Is it weird seeing me in scrubby clothes again?” I ask, gesturing to my plain blue tank top, Cookie Monster pajama pants, and sneakers.
“Not even a little. I prefer this version of you.”
“The real version.”
“The real Anna,” he says. “The real Liam.”
He gets another smooch for that. “Okay, go take your victory lap and I’ll be here for when you come back inside and want some celebratory horny boner banging.”
He laughs. “Holy fuck, I’m so happy you came.”
“Same.”
Liam gazes at me with what looks a lot like the L-word. “When do you have to fly home?” he asks.
“I bought a one-way ticket. So, technically never.”
He smiles. “So you can stay tonight?”
“I may have to call my dad,” I say with a wink. “But I can, I want to, and I shall.”
“And then every night after that?”
“Let’s start with the one,” I say, kissing his chin. “And see where it takes us.”
Epilogue
LIAM
Where it takes us, immediately, is our first night in my bed.
The chaos up and down my street continues long after I make a statement to the press, but even with the flash of cameras and a swarm of incessant questions being shouted my way, it’s easy enough to leave the stress of it all outside knowing that Anna is waiting on the other side of the door for me.
I could probably do anything with Anna waiting for me.
Our time on the island together was sexually adventurous, but there’s a new wildness, a raw openness to our lovemaking this first night home. As I push into her again and again, her limbs loose from exertion, skin damp with sweat and flushed from yet another orgasm, I let myself forget about the decisions that still have to be made, the complicated conversations that lie ahead, and give myself over to the realization that there’s nothing left for me to hide. Anna knows every secret I’ve tried to keep buried, every insecurity and shameful moment from my past; she knows the mess that is my family, and she accepts it anyway—accepts me. It’s a mental freedom I’ve never experienced before. I give myself over to her completely.
For a week, my phone buzzes constantly; reporters linger on the street. And for a week, we shut out the world. We order groceries and cook together; we watch movies and play board games. She buys us face masks and we wear them while trading foot massages. She makes me teach her how to dance the jitterbug; I let her paint on me with a set of body paints she orders from Instacart. Most of all, we make love, any and every way we possibly can.
But eventually, real life pushes back in. We both have a lot to figure out. In our quiet moments, lying face-to-face in my bed, we try to plot out what the next page looks like for each of us: Do I retain my faculty position or step into an executive role at the company? Does Anna return to Los Angeles to pursue the promise of these gallery showings or do I convince her to move here and pursue her art closer to me?
My biggest regret is that because of my actions, Anna questions whether she deserves any of the success her art is finding. But she can’t hold on to this insecurity for very long in the face of the true sincerity of my awe. She is a massively talented painter. In the end, we agree to take some time to tie up the loose ends of our lives outside of this burgeoning relationship. She will return to LA; I will meet with my academic higher-ups to forge a plan. And, at least for now, we’ll do the long-distance thing.
ANNA
LONG DISTANCE TURNS OUT to be good for us. It’s devastating to be separated for days at a time from Liam and his glorious Goddamn, but the miles between Palo Alto and Los Angeles also mean we get to know each other in different ways. Long-phone-call ways, and letter-writing ways. Constant-texting ways and “send me a picture of what you’re doing right now” ways. We have dirty phone sex nearly every weeknight, and dirty real sex as many weekends as we can manage.