“Love you too. Think about what I said. Please. You deserve to be happy. And your baby deserves a daddy.”
“I’ll think about it.” But I can’t let myself dream about how it would be sharing this with Nick. So I push those thoughts right to the back of my mind. It’s the only way I can get through the days.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nick
ThedaysafterLulustorms out of my office are a blur. I spend the weekend alternately raging and moping around my apartment. It feels like I work through the five stages of grief in twenty-four hours. Except for acceptance. That’s never going to happen. Her phone is either out of range or turned off, and none of the texts or emails I’ve sent have been opened. I go to her apartment and when she doesn’t answer, I let myself in to find most of her clothes missing. Mine, I discovered, were in the overnight bag she’d left on my office floor.
My mother has called a couple of times, but hell will freeze over before I answer a call from her. No doubt she’ll spout some crap about how she did it for my own good and I’ll thank her one day. I’m furious with my mother for setting this situation up. I’m furious with Eleanor for colluding with her. But most of all, I’m furious with myself for not telling Lulu how I feel.
I’ve spent my whole life avoiding getting involved. I’ve always told myself I didn’t have time for a proper relationship, but lately, I’ve realised that wasn’t the reason at all. It’s far more complicated than that. Part of me didn’t believe I deserved love, because I sure as hell never got any as a kid. But I also never wanted to end up like my parents. Ironically, it hasn’t escaped my notice my few-and-far-between girlfriends all have been little more than a convenience for both of us. Someone to escort to corporate functions, making our—I don’t want to call them relationships—carbon copies of my parents. Subconsciously, I was choosing partners I was in no danger of getting attached to. Probably because a large part of me didn’t want to risk getting hurt. But Lulu crept under my guard.
No, that’s not right. She simply breezed through it like it didn’t exist. Lulu actually seesme. Not the wealthy lawyer, not the potential politician, not the ticket to a cushy or powerful or well-connected life. Me. And now here I am—more than hurt. Destroyed.
On Monday I’m late to the office. Late for me, at least.
Mandy is already at her desk as I pass. “My office. Now.” She leaps out of the chair, grabbing her iPad on the way in.
“Oh, my god. Are you alright?” I can see the worry on her face. I must look worse than I realised, but I ignore her concern. There is only one thing that’s important right now. Finding Lulu. If she doesn’t want me, I’ll accept her decision. Well, not gracefully, and not without a fight. But I will accept it. Except I have to find her first. Explain what happened.
To my horror, I feel heat behind my eyes.
“Lulu has disappeared.” I don’t know how else to start.
“Disappeared? What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She hasn’t been home. Most of her clothes are missing. She hasn’t answered her phone. Or text. Or email.” That’s what I mean, disappeared.
“So, it was serious, then?” I know she means our relationship, not the disappeared part.
“Yes. It was. For me it was. For her too, I think. And then, the photo happened.”
“What were you thinking then? Taking The Ice Princess to the dinner?” Mandy has picked up Claire’s nickname for Eleanor. There’s no love lost there.
“I didn’t. Take her, I mean. My mother organised for her to be there. The photo and the announcement …” I scrub my hands over my face and realise from the feel of the scruff that I haven’t shaved since Friday. “She just jumped in there. I wasn’t holding her hand. I was pushing it off my arm and telling her to back off.”
“Oh, because it looks …”
“I know how it looks. But it wasn’t like that. And now Lulu has seen it. I can’t blame her for breaking it off. Except now she’s gone and disappeared. And I need to find her.”
Mandy is beginning to look as mournful as I feel.
“Maybe she needs a little time to calm down?”
“No. No time. Did you not hear me? She took most of her clothes. And there’s that.” I gesture towards the painting—I can’t even look at it—still leaning fully wrapped against the wall. “She’s not coming back.” My throat closes over. I feel panic starting to build and struggle to contain it.
Mandy jumps in her chair at my tone. “So, you want me to help?” I can only nod. “Okay—well, have you asked her friends?”
“I don’t know them. Her best friend is Rosanna. I think she’s a costume designer, but I’m not sure where. That’s all I know. The only person I’ve met is the owner of the gallery hosting her exhibition. His name is Sebastian Black. I think the gallery is called The Black Gallery.”
“Right. Well, it’s a start, at least. Do you want me to contact them, or do you want to do it?” She’s all efficiency now she has a task.
“No, if you could just find their numbers, I’ll call them.”
“Sebastian Black will be easy.” She’s already tapping at her iPad. “But it might take a bit of work to track down Rosanna the costume designer.”
“If you need to call Steve Piper, get him onto it. Oh, and her father lives in Scotland. Maybe get him to see if he can find him. They’re close. He’s bound to know where she is.” It doesn’t even occur to me that asking a private investigator to track down Lulu might be going over the top until I notice Mandy’s wide-eyed stare and gaping mouth. “Just do it. Please. Whatever it takes.”
