What the hell is going on?
Digging into my bag, I find my phone. I have a missed call from Erin, and my heart sinks.
My hand trembles as I lift the phone to my ear, pressing play on the voicemail that’s waiting for me.
My nostrils flare as her emotionless voice fills the line, and tears fill my eyes.
“Nina, I’ve had to sell the studio. Don’t contact me again. I need a fresh start and a clear break from London.” She huffs down the phone, and I frown at her heartless words. They have absolutely no sincerity in them. “Thanks for everything.”
“It’s been sold, hasn’t it?” Logan mutters, hands on his hips as he shakes his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know.” A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Well, either it’s sold or it’s not Nina? What did she say?”
Everything seems to slow, the cars on the street, the people that step around us, everything.
I struggle to find my voice as I look up at Logan.
He takes my phone and listens to the voicemail. “Bitch. What is that all about? Thanks for everything; like this is your fucking fault!”
“I’m so sorry. I will help you find another job. We can set up someplace else,” I rush out. Then I think of Henry, and how this will affect him too.
My body starts to tingle, and sweat forms on my brow. My stomach rolls. Oh god.
I bend, vomiting onto the curb.
“You’re sure I’m okay to leave you here?” Logan asks as we enter my apartment, his hand smoothing over my back.
“Yes, you go. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“Will you stop that?! We will get it sorted.”
I nod my head, but the sinking feeling in my gut tells me we won’t.
I can feel everything slipping away from me.
“Call the girls, yeah?” he tells me, turning and moving for the door, but looking back at the last minute with a sad look in his eyes.
He doesn’t want to leave me.
“Go. I’ll be okay.”
He slips through the door, closing it gently behind him, and as the lock clicks, my tears fall. I look around my little apartment, wondering what comes next—the loans, this place, the showcase.
My showcase.
The girls have worked so hard for this.Ihave worked so hard for this.
I go to my bag and pull out my phone.
I call Mason.
Nothing.
“Mase,” my voice cracks and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Can you call me back?”
I try Lucy instead.
