Page 68 of Saving Ian Pope

I tried to brush aside the little voice that whispered in my ear that I hadn’t been around for about a month. I hadn’t been around when he fell off the wagon. Hadn’t I read that he’d had sex in the bathroom of a club with some random woman during his drinking days?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out in front of the bronze Buddha. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the text from Ian asking if I was having a good time and telling me the session was running over, and he’d be later than expected. My finger hovered over the display and then I shoved the phone back into my jacket. Was he going to be late because he was fucking someone else in London?

I shook my head. I was just spiraling now. There had to be an innocent explanation for the panties. He had two sisters living in England; maybe one had borrowed the flat. I’d ask him when I came back. Just clear the air.

Unlike me, he didn’t lie.

My stomach growled as I wandered through the display of the spice route, which detailed all the different foods that were introduced around the world thanks to the Silk Road. So, when I reached the end of the display room, I headed downstairs to the café.

I’d been too numb this morning to stop for breakfast and too distracted to think about lunch. I entered the half-empty café and stood in a short line to order. I decided on some soup and a cup of tea, and smacked down Ian’s credit card to pay for the eight-pound tab. Let him pay for my lunch for putting me through this agony.

When I picked up my soup, I headed for a corner and settled on the plastic chair. I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw that Ian had texted me a question mark. I pressed my finger on his previous text and gave him a thumbs up.

I slurped a few spoonfuls of soup and checked the time on my phone. I counted backward on my fingers and figured it was late enough to call Chloe. I needed a sounding board.

Holding my breath, I tapped her number.Please answer.

Three rings later. “Ivy, what the fuck? It’s the middle of the night here. Wait, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” I almost sobbed at the sound of Chloe’s irritated voice. “And it should be about six AM there, not the middle of the night.”

“It feels like the middle of the night.”

I held the phone away from my ear as rustling, smacking noises came over the line. “Chloe?”

Chloe whispered, “Be right back, babe.”

I asked, “Where are you going?”

Chloe, her voice louder now, snapped back. “Not you. Someone’s in my bed.”

“Not Trent.”

“God, no. It’s Cryptobro.”

“I thought you...” I closed my eyes and took a sip of my tea “...never mind.” I couldn’t keep up with Chloe’s revolving door of men since she and Trent broke up.

“Are you calling me because I called you earlier? I didn’t want to text or leave a message, but you didn’t have to call me back so early in the morning.”

“Yes and no.” I chewed the corner of my lip. “I mean, you go first. Why’d you call? And why didn’t you send me a text message?”

Chloe gasped. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Saw what?” Chloe couldn’t possibly know about the black undies.

“That blind item on PopWiz.”

I poured more hot water over my teabag. “The who on what?”

“PopWiz. You know that account on Instagram that posts blind items about celebrities.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chloe. That’s why you called?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “I have something to tell you, and I didn’t think it was appropriate for a text message—or a voicemail.”

I pressed a hand to my chest. “You’re getting married.”

“No!”

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