Page 60 of Love is Fake

“No, baby girl,” he whispers eventually, his voice a little hoarse. “I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. I had two wonderful years with your mama and I wouldn’t trade one moment of them for any of the pain I felt in the twenty-five years since she left, because loving her was worth it.”

“Thanks daddy,” I whisper. “I guess I better go. Thanks to you, I’ve got something to do.” My resolve has strengthened aftermy father’s emotional assertion. I want to believe he’s right; loving someone is worth the pain of losing them.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles. “And next time we talk I want to hear more about your young man.”

I hang up the phone after promising to answer all his questions during our next call.

I sit there for a moment, letting the butterflies in my stomach circulate at the thought of what I’m about to do. I know if I mull over it for any longer, I’ll lose my nerve, which means it’s now or never and never is a long time to wait.

I race to Lennox’s study, knowing that’s where he’ll be. The simplicity of that intimacy makes me smile again as I think about how I’m going to say what I need to. I go back and forth before deciding it’s best not to plan it, to just wing it and speak from the heart, as that’s what I’m talking about after all.

The study door is open so I slip in, ready to blurt out what I’ve come here to say, before I notice Lennox is on the phone. He stands, staring out of the floor to ceiling window, his back facing me, cell to his ear. I take a moment to admire how damn good he looks. He must have had meetings today because he’s changed out of his gym wear and is in what I like to call his ‘off duty top-model’ outfit of jeans and a Henley shirt he fills out as if it were made for him.

After a few seconds of me ogling him, I take in the fact he’s having an argument with the person at the other end of the line, which is totally out of character. Sure, he was an asshole to me when we first met but there were extenuating circumstances and all is now forgiven. As a rule, Lennox is polite to a fault; a total Southern gentleman. So why does he sound like he wants to murder the unfortunate person he’s talking to?

“What do you mean it’s coming out now?” Lennox snarls down the phone and I’m grateful as hell not to be on the receiving end of it. “I told you to stop it!”

I stand uncertainly in the doorway, watching Lennox pace up and down. He’s so wired he hasn’t even noticed me.

“For fuck’s sake, Declan. This is the shit I pay you for!”

I frown, wondering what’s got Lennox so strung-out. Did something happen with his return to the Pelicans? That wouldn’t make sense, he’s their best player and they’ve been falling over themselves trying to get him back on the ice this whole time.

So, what is going on?

“No, I haven’t told her yet.” Lennox rubs the bridge of his nose like he does when he’s getting a headache. Normally, I’d walk over and try to soothe the pain away, but something in his tone makes me hang back. “I fucking know, Dec! I don’t need you to tell me how pissed off Isabella’s gonna be when she finds out.”

At the sound of my name, my stomach bottoms out, reminding me of being at the top of a rollercoaster, peering down at the drop that’s about to come. My planned declaration is suddenly forgotten in the face of the shit-show I feel heading straight for me.

“Shit, Dec. What do you mean she’s coming here? We agreed that wasn’t fucking happening!”

My eyes track the tension growing in his body and the rising panic in his voice. Lennox doesn’t do panic. Something is very wrong.

“Fuck!” He slams his phone down onto the table, angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“When I find out what?” I ask, softly, watching him as his head snaps up to realize I’ve overheard everything.

Lennox’s dark eyes meet mine and the alarm bells which started ringing in my mind get a little louder because instead of the warmth I’m used to seeing, there’s a hardness in his gaze.

Not good.

“There’s something I need to show you.”

Picking up his phone, he taps a few keys and hands it over to me to look at. As I stare at the screen, it feels like my entire world is turned upside down in a matter of seconds.

“I wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t know how and then it didn’t matter because I called the whole thing off. But now it looks like Honey’s people didn’t get the fucking memo.” He runs his fingers through his hair in agitation and tries to take my elbow to pull me closer to him, but I’m stiff as a board.

My eyes are glued to the headline of the article and the photo above it, everything else has just turned into white noise.

‘Gray Scores a Fiancé!’

The picture is of two of the best looking faces you could hope to see. Two faces who belong in magazines. Who belong together.

“That’s your ex,” I state dully, unable to take my eyes off of the photo of the model draped all over Lennox as they’re coming out of some fancy party. I check the date of the article, hoping like hell it’s from months ago, from before I even showed up here. It’s not. It was published today.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry,” Lennox’s words come out in a rush, but it’s as if I’m hearing them from far away. That’s all he has. An apology. An apology and a face full of regret.

There’s something horribly ironic about me coming to tell Lennox I’ve totally fallen for him and instead finding out he’s already fallen for someone else. But, right now, I don’t care about irony, not when the world suddenly seems to be spinning underneath my feet.

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