Page 24 of The Promposal

Not at the moment. But if I said that, I might not be the only Lowe family member out punching people tonight. “It’s not Jake. Everything is ... fine-ish. Don’t worry about it.” I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just going to go to bed.”

My father’s jaw twitched back and forth. It was his poker tell. One that he was usually better at concealing and meant that he was really worried. “We’re here if you need to talk to us.”

“I know. Good night.”

I considering getting ready for bed first, but it was time to face the music. Whatever that meant.

When I stood outside of Ella’s door, I heard the unmistakable sounds of her sobbing. I didn’t bother with knocking and hurried inside.

She sat in the middle of her pink comforter, her whole body shaking as she cried and cried. My heart leaped in my throat. Someone had beaten me to the punch.

Or had told her about the punch.

“How do you already know?” I made sure to close the door behind me. I didn’t need Dad and Jennifer to overhear us. “Did somebody tell you?”

She took in several deep breaths and looked up at me, confused. Tears clung to her eyelashes until she wiped them away. “What?”

“Why are you crying?” I sat down across from her, the mattress sinking under my weight.

“Li-Liam Fiorelli,” she hiccupped.

Was that the guy who had told her? “I don’t know who that is.”

Ella threw her hands out to her side, letting out a sound of frustration. “I talk about him all the time, Tilly. Liam Fiorelli. Lead singer of the Beat? They’re my favorite group. He and the band were just in a serious accident, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it. The drummer already died.”

She started crying again, and I scooted closer so that I could put my arm around her. If she was this brokenhearted about a band being in an accident, what was she going to do when I told her about her lying, cheating scumbag of a boyfriend? Maybe I should wait. We had the whole weekend in front of us, and I could let her get over this tragedy before I gave her another one.

“Why are you in here alone? Why didn’t you go talk to Jennifer and Dad?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffing. “Maybe because it feels like such a stupid thing to be this upset about. I’ve had a crush on Liam Fiorelli since I was thirteen, but I don’t know him. I shouldn’t be crying.”

It wasn’t that strange. Ella had always been very sensitive and emotional.

She reached for some tissues and blew her nose. I patted her awkwardly. Physically comforting someone wasn’t really my strong suit.

“What’s with the face?” she asked, tossing the Kleenex over the side of her bed.

“It can wait.”

Ella studied me with her red-rimmed eyes. “I’m already devastated. Whatever bad news you’re carrying around, you should tell me now. You couldn’t possibly make things worse.”

I didn’t want to accept her challenge. But she deserved to know. And better to hear it from me than somebody malicious like Mercedes, who would try to hurt her as much as possible.

“Jake and I went out to eat tonight. And at the restaurant, I saw Trent. With a girl.” I held my breath for a second. “A girl he was kissing.”

My sister blinked at me several times, as if she hadn’t understood what I’d just said. “Trent ... waskissinganother girl? Who?”

“That stupid Bronte who graduated last year. I don’t know why. You are so much prettier than she is.”

“So ... I don’t have a boyfriend anymore?” Ella asked, and I got her confusion. “This means we’re done, right?”

“I don’t know many other ways to so completely kill a relationship. Cheating means you need to drop him like fifth-period Spanish.”

“Wait,” she said, grabbing more tissues. “You dropped fifth-period Spanish?”

That’s what she was focusing on? “So not the point right now!”

She nodded, and I noticed that her crying had turned into little more than sniffles and nose blowing.

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