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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

LENA

Leaning over the sink, I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

Berry-colored gloss feathers from my lips, and I do my best to clean up the edges of my pout with a shaking finger.

I don’t know what I expected when I dragged Decker backstage, but it wasn’t that.

Sure, his attraction was obvious, and yeah, I’ve fantasized a few times about him confessing his love, but I never imagined he would.

And then he did, and I did what I always do.

I put my head down. I stuck to my agenda.

I didn’t tell him that all I think about when I go to bed at night is how I wish he was next to me, or the fact that I’ve pinpointed the exact color of green his eyes are on the Pantone chart.

Or that if he kissed me one more time tonight, I may have been willing to throw away everything we’ve worked so hard to salvage.

But I chose to keep us on track and stuck to the stupid contract.

Opening my clutch, I pull out my compact and begin powdering the bare places around my mouth and nose that no doubt are now smudged across Decker’s handsome face.

My phone buzzes once, needling under my skin as I tuck my makeup away.

No matter how annoying my team can be, Decker’s wrong.

Following through is the right choice. He may not understand, but I’m doing us both a favor.

Celebrity relationships always have a messy ending.

If we tried to keep this going, I’d ruin his career like I did his retirement dreams.

Footsteps click across the tile behind me, and I duck my head, pretending to be enamored with scrubbing my hands. When I surface from the bathroom, Decker isn’t there. Instead, in his place stands Callum.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, all my frustrations filtering into those few words. If anyone deserves it, it’s him.

He looks around like I could be talking to anyone else in the empty hall. The desolation this long hall provides is exactly why I opt for these bathrooms any time I visit. Callum tilts his head at me like a confused puppy. “It’s a charity event.”

“Exactly.”

He tips his head back in a condescending laugh. “Hey, come on. I’m not that bad. I donate to charities, too.”

I can’t help but to roll my eyes. “Name one.”

“If we’re being specific, I’m here tonight because I gave to the children’s hospital, but to name another, I donated to the Cover Lena’s Screw Up Fund as well.”

“You what?”

“The fire.” He sighs, pushing his hands into his pockets as he steps forward.

“Look, I know we may not have ended things on the best terms. And I know that maybe we weren’t compatible, and because of that, I wasn’t always the best boyfriend.

Now that I’m in a relationship that works, I can see that. ”

“In a relationship with the girl you cheated on me with?”

He lifts a hand like there’s nothing he can do about it, which now, I guess there isn’t. “Regardless, I told everyone it was an electrical fire. Faulty wiring in that fossil of a building that went crazy when it mingled with the alcohol of my aromatherapy sprays.”

“Your sprays are alcohol free.”

“They don’t know that. Everyone just accepted that answer. The only person who asked any questions was the manager, and I gave him a hefty sum and a threat to drop it. Neither you nor I need this following us around. Especially with my first international tour in the works.”

“So you did it to protect yourself, not me.”

“We both benefited.”

My jaw tightens. The tour that he and I put into motion before our breakup.

The one that I pulled strings to get arranged.

It doesn’t seem fair that someone who once broke my heart is still benefiting from what I’m able to offer.

Looking at him now, I’m much less disgusted than I thought I’d be seeing him again.

And then it hits me. I feel nothing for this man.

As much as I want to be angry with him, as much as he deserves it, only a strange gratitude remains in its place.

I’m grateful he closed this chapter for me because I was so enamored with him, I never would have.

I’m grateful that his awfulness and my outburst pushed me to get involved with Decker.

Despite not realizing it until now, Decker was what I needed.

I’ve never been treated, protected, or listened to the way I was with Decker.

Most of all, staring into Callum’s blue eyes now, I wish they were the warm green of the ones I peered into all night until mere minutes ago.

The ones I thought I’d find waiting for me here.

I’ve made a horrible mistake.

“Thank you, Callum. Truly. Thanks.”

He gives me a tight smile and a nod as a pretty blonde girl—the one I once hated without ever meeting—latches onto his arm.

Her smile flounders when she sees me, and I try my best to look pleasant through the trepidation growing inside.

In the end, Callum Porter saved my reputation just as much as Decker did.

I never thought that would be the case. Callum found love.

Somehow, after everything, he still thinks he’s worthy of good things, so why don’t I deserve them too?

I turn and retreat down the hall, wobbling on my heels in the thick carpet as I track toward the ballroom. I have to find Decker. His phone rings as I call him once, twice, three times, but there’s no answer. My mother’s alarmed eyes greet me when I arrive at our table breathless.

She checks around us to see if anyone else is gawking. “Decker already gave us his goodbyes, dear.”

“He said he had an urgent business matter to tend to at home.” Dad’s brow furrows with concern. “Lena, is everything okay?”

I collapse into my chair, not caring who’s watching, as my head falls into my hands against the tabletop.

Decker is gone.

Decker hasn’t returned my calls in three weeks.

He didn’t respond when I sent him the pre-made post I texted over the morning after the charity gala, and when I searched for his account to check if he uploaded it, I couldn’t find him.

He deactivated his socials. I open my phone and shamelessly click on my top search, Decker’s name.

Only a little gray circle pops up. Decker still doesn’t exist online outside of the articles about his team's wins over the past few weeks.

I miss that deli he took me to. I miss Princess. I miss him.

I get out my notebook, jotting down some lyrics, ones I’d been too afraid to write when we’d been together. Words pour from my mind, filter through my heart, and scrawl out through my hand as I do what I do best. I write my stupid sad girl lyrics.

Since our breakup, more than half the gossip about me online has been speculating that this breakup will lead to my best album yet.

Regardless of how amicable we tried to make it sound, not everyone is buying that we both went our own happy ways.

In particular, they say there’s no way I would have let him go.

Even strangers can see what I tried to deny.

I'm exactly who the internet has been rumbling about nonstop since forever.

The sad girl who is only inspired by her sad little love life.

And this time, they aren’t wrong.

As pathetic as it is, I want to run across town, knock on his door, and throw myself into his arms, but a deal is a deal.

This was strictly business, and as always, I treated it as such.

Decker wanted more. We could have been more.

Tears blur the ink on the page, and I slam the book shut, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets so hard I see streaks of lightning behind my eyelids.

My stomach growls. Did I forget to eat again?

I pull out my phone to make an order, but quickly hang up and text Gustav to get the car ready.

As bizarre as it is, if I can’t have Decker, at least I can have his favorite sandwich.

If sitting in that dilapidated parking lot while someone runs in to grab my sandwich makes me feel like I still have a piece of Decker, I’m willing to give it a try.

No matter how completely pathetic it is.