Page 92 of Leah

I found a job, steered clear of the news, and distracted myself.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, after all.

Shame the tunnel was lonely.

Twenty-Seven

Leah

Graduation day was pretty standard.

Nothing overly exciting about it. The only thing I was happy about was the photos of me in the graduation gown and the silly cap with the annoying tassels falling over my face every time I looked down.

I’d done it.

I had graduated.

For someone with my beginnings, this was surreal.

Once I accepted my degree and got the hell out of there, I tore the gown off and went to an early dinner with Melanie and Rome’s parents.

Marlena and Harold were exceptionally good with their poker faces, completely overlooking the events that happened between Carter and me. I knew they were perfectly aware, and I cringed every time I imagined them in the grocery store, passing the magazines with my ass and stars-for-boobs on display.

Thank God those magazines were no longer poisoning the check-out stands.

I had this ridiculously giant burger with guacamole in it, determined to finish every last bit. Graduating wasn’t the only thing I was celebrating. It was the Junior Accountant position I’d just landed from an accounting firm not even a week ago.

Thank God old grumpy accountants didn’t give a fuck about the media and had no idea who I was.

I should have been happier than I was, but my heart was heavy as my thoughts meandered to Carter. Always him and the last words he’d said to me.

I missed him.

So fucking much.

I finished out dinner, happy on the surface, and then we returned home. The plan was to get changed and head out to a club for a few drinks. What it didn’t involve, however, was the blue card taped to the door.

I ripped it off and tore it open.

Removing the card, I opened it as Melanie hovered over my shoulder, reading the lines.

Hey ladies, it’s Rome.

Leah, we wanted to congratulate you on your graduation, and, since we’re in the city at the moment shooting a music video, we thought what better way than to take you to one of the best clubs around. You’re on the VIP list. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I hope you do.

Below that were the directions to the club.

“Do you want to go?” Melanie asked, her voice lighter than before. Was she holding her breath, nervous of my response?

I sensed she wanted to see Rome.

“I don’t know,” I answered, hesitantly. “Carter will be there, right?”

“Do you want me to call Rome and check?”

I mulled it over before nodding. “Yeah, just ask. I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to go if he’s there, you know?”

She pulled out her phone and dialled Rome’s number.

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