Love Like That. Amanda Hill
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Love Like That
Amanda Hill
MILLS & BOON
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For Katherine and Kelli
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so incredibly fortunate to have had such wonderful people help see Love Like That on its journey: Thanks to Stephanie Lee, my agent at Manus & Associates, because she was its motivational force; and to Farrin Jacobs, my editor at Red Dress Ink, for believing in this book enough to publish it. To Mom, Dad, Lisa, Terry and Mimi, for their encouragement, support and love. To Tammy Jensen, my mainstay, because after hearing the story countless times, she still read every word. To Ann Phillips, for her unwavering enthusiasm. To Regina Sanchez, for her invaluable guidance. To my friends from Ventura, for their many timeless qualities that will always call me home. And lastly, a bit of gratitude to those not named who provided such unforgettable inspiration for the people who live between these pages.
In the city you’ll find me
mixed beliefs in liquored drinks
confidence purchased in sleek boutiques
lost dreams in rings of nicotine
sordid nights triumphant with poetic lies
carnal pleasure anointed with tight-fisted thighs
comfort snorted in glittering lines
red lips rebel in a sea of neurotic faces
street lights flicker inconceivable wishes
hidden beneath my cheapened skin
nurturing my inconsistent sin
In the city you’ll find me
—Katherine Larsen
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Prologue
My vomit was teal. When I first saw it I screamed and said we should call 911. I thought my insides were really that color and that maybe I was an alien. Jeremy said to shut up and relax. He said it was from the blue curaçao in the drinks. Some of it had crusted on the underside of the toilet seat.
I closed my eyes and imagined I had woken up from a four-poster canopy bed with satin sheets and lace and lush carpeting beneath my feet like a princess in a fairy tale. The faucet was leaking. Jeremy was coughing from the futon. He yelled that he had smoked too much and how could I let him do such a thing. I stumbled leaving the bathroom, and lit a cigarette.
He acted like he didn’t know me. He does that sometimes. I lay down on the futon with him and concentrated on breathing as the smoke circled around us in yellowish-gray streamers. He put Alien in the DVD player and we watched it in silence.
“Are you going to live?” he finally asked.
“I’m not sure. It might help if you rub my back,” I replied.
He scratched it disinterestedly for a few seconds, then stopped.
I remembered when we first met how we would lie facing each other and smile sleepily as we talked about all the things lovers do. Now my back was to him and he didn’t seem to care. I guess because we’ve gotten routine. Or maybe just because we don’t have to care. Maybe that is our routine.
“Can I get something to drink?” I asked.
He sighed like I’d just asked him to rearrange the furniture and got up with exaggerated effort. “I’ll see what I’ve got, okay? But I’m warning you—it’s probably not much.”
He was right. The only thing in his refrigerator was this yucky fruit-soda-type diet drink. He drank half and handed me the bottle. I took a tentative sip and nearly gagged. But it was cold so I drank it.
He settled down again. “Don’t you have to pick Roman up from the airport today?”
“You know I do.”
He yawned. “How long’s he staying this time, anyway?”
“Um…am I totally retarded, or wasn’t I just telling you last night that he’ll be here for three weeks?”
“Well…I don’t know. I wouldn’t say you’re totally retarded,” he replied. “Seriously, though. Three whole weeks?”
I frowned at him. “You shouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“I don’t.” He put his hands behind his head and shrugged into the futon mattress.
“Then why did you say it like that? Three whole weeks?” I mimicked.
“I didn’t say it like that,” he informed me.
I sat up. “Yeah, you did. Like you’re put off by the idea of Roman being here that long because you know you can’t call me while he’s around.”
He eyed me. “Don’t fool yourself, toots. Three weeks isn’t even that long.”
I got up to locate my belongings. “Whatever. I’d better be on my way, actually.”
“Okay.”
How very odd to find my roommate’s shiny blue Prada pumps, which I’d borrowed on the sly the night before, in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink. I thought the empty tequila bottle on the kitchen counter could probably explain a lot of things. But