Page 66 of Broken Harmony
I blink at him slowly, wondering if my ears are hearing him right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s Lulu,” Nate repeats.
“As in... my Lulu?” I ask slowly.
They both nod.
“Lulu works for Maya?” They nod again.
I blink, looking away. So that's what she’s been doing with her life. I’ve been trying my hardest to let Lulu go, to move on. My therapist said obsessively stalking the love of my life wasn’t healthy. But what would she know?
Still, I did as she suggested and haven’t done any deep dives into her life in a long time. Do I still stalk her socials? Yes.
Fuck. Now that I think of it, I’ve seen Lulu post Maya on there a few times. And I remember being jealous as hell over whoever the fuck was with her.
How could I be so stupid and not put all this together?
“Thanks for telling me.” I swallow hard. “But this doesn’t change anything.”
“Are you sure?” Nate asks, not sounding convinced.
“I am.”
“Alright, then. Read this over again, just to make sure. And if it’s good, sign it, and we’ll get this sent off.”
“Sounds good.” I pull my feet up on the couch, suddenly feeling vulnerable. I hate it. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this.
They get up to leave, but Liam pauses. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” I give him my best reassuring smile.
Because keeping secrets can get messy, I’ve told the guys, Liam, and Nate about my past with Lulu, mostly due to the fact that it was largely why Julia had so much control over me.
They know my past with her, my feelings regarding her, and everything in between.
And I love them for thinking about how this would affect me and not blindsiding me.
Liam nods, looking like he doesn’t want to leave, but sensing I need to be alone with my thoughts right now.
By the time I’m done reading the contract, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. And when I place it down on the table, I look at the contact information and see her name.
Contact: Lucinda Carter, Manager. Phone: 555-333-4444.
My eyes fixate on the number, heart racing, palms sweating.
It’s right there. I could pick up the phone and call her. I could hear her voice for the first time in six years.
Licking my lips, my mind races with a million different things that could happen.
I’ve been doing so good. I shouldn’t do this. She’s happy. She has a life. Friends. Maybe even a pack. Let her move on. Let her go.
Let her go. Let her fucking go!
“Fuck it,” I rush out, grabbing my phone.
With shaking hands, my fingers fumble to put in her number as I race against my own mind, doing it now before I chicken out.
When the phone starts to ring, my heart starts to beat crazy fast. I think I might pass out. Maybe puke. Both? Fuck. What am I doing?
