Changing Roles

I tightened my hands on Shelby. This could work.

“Please,” I asked quietly. “If you were there, I could do this, Shelby. Please.”

She glanced at Everett.

“I’ll be right there,” he encouraged her. “You don’t have to talk to reporters or anything. We’ll get you down the red carpet as quickly as possible. But Liam has to go. He can’t back out now, no matter what is going on.”

She bit her lip, and I knew how much she hated being put in this position. She shied away from anything to do with the Hollywood lifestyle and the mass hysteria that seemed to surround me when I was in public. I knew the thought of being on that carpet tonight was almost as daunting to her as it was to me. But I needed her. I knew if she was beside me, I could walk the red carpet, ignore the screams, and be calm. She always calmed me.

“Please,” I asked again. “I need you.”

For a moment, our eyes locked. Bright blue met pleading green. Her gaze slowly softened with understanding, and I sighed in relief when she agreed. I dropped my head back to her stomach; it suddenly felt too heavy to hold up anymore.

With her, I could do this.

“On one condition.”

I looked up. “You can have anything, Shelby. Name it and it’s yours.”

Whatever she wanted, I’d buy her.

A smile played on her lips, and then she grinned widely. “You’re sure about that? Anything?”

I nodded, confused, but smiled back at her as relief coursed through me, making me almost giddy. She never asked for anything.

What could she possibly want?

She bent, brushing her lips across my forehead. She cupped my cheeks as she regarded me seriously. “The draft comes out of the frame and into your account tomorrow, Liam. And it’s done.”

Bloody hell.

I sat back and admitted defeat grudgingly.

She’d done it.

Game, set, and match.

She’d won.

I laughed as she winked at me.

Brilliant girl.6LiamI paced the front hall anxiously.

What was taking so long?

I had showered, shaved, and dressed in thirty minutes. Shelby and Lily had been up there for well over an hour. A couple of times, while I was getting ready, I heard muffled shrieks from the third floor, and once, I was sure I heard Shelby cursing at Lily.

She rarely cursed unless she was pissed at me, which was often. I enjoyed listening to her cuss me out, and I knew she wasn’t enjoying the primping Lily had assured her she would love.

Shelby didn’t primp.

It was one of the things I found endearing and refreshing about her.

She was simply Shelby. I had never seen her in a dress. Her everyday outfits consisted of either black yoga pants or jeans and a long shirt. When she had cleaned out my closet, she had snagged a few of the dress shirts I didn’t want and often wore those, the arms rolled up and the tails tied around her hips as she worked around the house.

I never told her I preferred it when she wore my shirts. For some reason, it made my chest warm to see her in them, though.

Her hair was always in a bun or a ponytail. No makeup. The only item I’d ever seen her use was lip gloss.

She was naturally pretty; it was effortless. She was just Shelby.

So what was taking so bloody long?

I dragged my hand through my now-shorter hair and glanced over at Everett, who was busy typing away on his phone. Mark had arrived and was outside having a smoke as he waited patiently. Neither of them seemed concerned over the time it was taking. I glanced at my watch for the hundredth time.

“Relax, Liam. Plenty of time,” Everett advised.

“What are they doing up there?”

He looked up and shrugged. “God knows.”

“Go find out.”

He shook his head. “Your house, Liam. You go.”

“No. I don’t go onto Shelby’s floor. That’s her space.”

I had only ever been up three times. I had insisted she make over the rooms to suit her, and she had shown me the end result. The second time, I had been desperate. My head ached and I felt like shit and I needed Shelby to fix it for me, so I had bravely gone up to her room and woke her at four a.m., asking for her help. She had taken me back downstairs, soothed my head, got me medication and something to drink before she sat with me until I fell asleep. When I woke later that morning, she was still curled in the chair beside the bed, having watched over me all night. Because that was what Shelby did. She cared for those she loved, and as she often told me, she loved me like a brother. I loved her right back—she was my best friend, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. She took care of me. I was lucky to have her. When she got sick from looking after me and hadn’t come downstairs for the day, I went back to her room after making her some dinner. I learned two valuable lessons. Never wake a sick Shelby. And never offer baked beans on toast to someone who was ill. I barely made it out of the room without joining her in the bathroom while she was retching after I shoved the tray under her nose, trying to be helpful.