“Okay, next up on the mic is that sultry little devil in the blue sweater dress. Yep, you honey. Come on up.” The DJ spoke right to the woman who smacked Joel, who was grinning big at his plan coming to play. The woman’s eyes found his, and I felt like I needed to move to the side so I wouldn’t be hit with daggers she was throwing his way. She looked at all the girls hanging off of him, and then did something evil—she smirked. Her heels moving her toward the little stage, she leaned into the DJ, picking her song I guess, and grabbed the mic. This chick was brazen.
“This song goes out to all you ladies who think you’re leaving with a prime steak, but really all you got is a hot dog.” Her voice held a hint of an accent. Brazilian?
Her hips started to sway, and then she started singing out the lyrics to “Cowboy Casanova” by Carrie Underwood.
“She is vicious,” I murmured, and then looked at Joel, who was completely transfixed.
When the song was over and her warning made to the women on Joel’s arm, she walked off. I half-expected Joel to chase after her, but he didn’t.
A few minutes later, he announced he was ready to leave. Thank fuck, because I just wanted to get back to the silence. We didn’t talk about the woman who spanked Joel’s metaphorical ass at the bar with her voice, or Livia. We were both confused as hell, and needed time to think.
It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that I finally gave into sin.
My finger touched the gallery button on my phone, and there it was. The picture I’d taken so I would have something to look at after she left.
Livia, on the deck of the Empire State Building, her whole face in awe of the city.
What I wouldn’t give to see her face like that again, all lit up and filled with wonder.
Thoughts of her, and that night, drove my fingers to act out of desperation.
Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers. –Killian
The song had been stuck in my head for weeks, driving me mad.
As the hours drifted by, it was apparent Livia wasn’t going to text me back anything. She’d moved on in some way. I got my shit together and flew back home, facing the reality that I had to let go of the pain of losing her. She was living her life, and I needed to do that, too. Or at least accept what it was. She was gone. Our time was just a memory now, and that was something to cherish, instead of sulk over.
After a few phone calls, my next month was scheduled out for jobs. I had work to do, a life to keep living. It was time I got back on the rig.
Chapter Thirty-One
Livia
Istared at the text draft on my phone that had been there for two weeks. I wanted to send it so many times, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready yet. Killian missed me, and it was all I could do not to hunt him down. But I was close—I was figuring myself out, and doing okay. I mulled over Kate and Meghan’s words about doing graphic design again, so I started to dabble into it for a few new indie authors. It wasn’t a huge success yet, but I was still working on it. So far, the few people I’d done work for loved it, and loved working with me. I was smiling and feeling better about myself. I just hoped Killian could hang on a little longer until I felt more settled about my life. I had made the decision that I would find him, and try to have something with him. I don’t know how it would work, but I’d come up with a goal. I needed him in my life. He made it better. Whether we’d have a long-distance thing, or whatever, something had to work.
A knock at the door jolted me from my desk chair.
I yelled for Mom, to see if she was by the door, but then I remembered she and Dad went for a walk. Maybe they locked themselves out. I shoved my phone in the pocket of my pajama bottoms, since I was still wearing them and Julian’s old T-shirt. I walked to the door, and swung it open.
“Finally.”
Lane was standing on the front porch, staring at me, with his hands on his hips. He was still the same Lane I’d left. Tall, swimmer’s body, brown hair, brown eyes, clean jaw line, and preppy clothes. A look that now did absolutely nothing for me whatsoever.
“What do you want, Lane?” I held onto the door, my body positioned so it was a clear denial of entry into the house.
“I wanna talk, Livie.” I hated it when he called me that.
“I don’t wanna talk, Lane. I already told you I don’t want to be with you. Get the hint.” I tried to shut the door in his face, but his arm reached out and stopped it. My eyes glared at him murderously.
“I’m done, Lane. Get off my porch,” I spat at him.
“I just want to talk. Jesus Christ. Let me in.” He pushed past me into the house and I was fuming. Seriously? I wanted to marry this guy?
He went to the couch and sat down, patting the seat next to him. I looked outside the front of the house, debated on just leaving, but instead I closed the door and walked over to the love seat instead of the couch. I was not sitting next to him.
“Okay, look, I know you didn’t mean for things to happen with Tyler. You weren’t ready to be out with people after your brother’s death, and I pushed you. I’m sorry.” I just rolled my eyes. This guy. He ran his fingers along his collared shirt, popping it up, which made him look ever more like a douche bag.
“We can go back to the way things were. We can still have that wedding at the club you wanted. We can still try for a family, and have the life we always wanted. I talked to Tessa. She is willing to sell your shop back to you. We can have our dream life again.” He was looking at me with pure hope in his eyes. He really thought all of that was my dream, what I wanted in life. I figured it out over the course of my time with Killian, that Lane never really loved me. He never cared about what I wanted. I was just his trophy wife to move around like a pawn.
