Page 71 of Falling for the Wrong Billionaire
I have to face this.
I type a quick response, telling him everything is on track, and then toss my phone back in my purse.
I’m standing at a crossroads, and I don’t know which way to go.
The pressure of the impending engagement weighs heavily on me as I make my way back to the car.
I should’ve ended it with Liam. I should’ve told him everything before it got too far. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to. I thought maybe there was a way out, that maybe I could still have a chance to live my life the way I wanted.
But I was wrong.
I’m trapped in a world of my father’s making, and I can’t escape.
I pull out my phone again, my fingers trembling as I look at the picture of Liam — the one he sent me that night we kissed. Ididn’t realize then how much it would mean to me. Now, it’s the only thing I have left of him.
I look at it for a long time, wishing things could be different.
I wish I could go back and make a different choice.
I take one last look at the photo before placing my phone back in my purse.
I can’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, I can still change the future.
But first, I have to face the truth. And the truth is, I can’t have both.
I can’t have Liam. And I can’t have the life I’m supposed to live.
Not unless I let everything fall apart. And I’m not ready to do that yet.
Chapter twenty-three
Liam
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t focus. I can’t even pretend to be okay.
For weeks, I’ve been walking around like a ghost, showing up at meetings, shaking hands, signing papers, making decisions — all the while my mind is stuck on her.
On Lucy.
It’s torture.
I tell myself she doesn’t deserve this much of me — not after what she did, not after how she left things — but my heart doesn’t care about logic. It never did when it came to her.
I’ve been miserable without her. Every day feels longer, heavier. I still wake up thinking about her. I still catch myself reaching for my phone at night like maybe — just maybe — she’ll have sent me something. An explanation. Anything.
But there’s nothing. Always nothing.
Tonight is the first night in weeks I’ve even let myself admit it: I can’t keep going like this. I can’t let her marry him without at least knowing why. Without at least trying.
Nate, who seems to know everyone and have ins with people all over the state, had handed me a note the other day. It simply had her father’s name and business, his address, and details about the upcoming engagement and wedding of his only daughter Lucille Jane Whittier. How and where he got all this information is always a mystery to me, but that guy is sure connected. I studied the details over and over, with still no resolution as to the why of it all.
That’s why I call Nate and Bryan.
The three of us are sitting in the corner booth of our usual place, a quiet bar just outside of town. I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, but I don’t drink it. The weight in my chest is heavier than anything a drink could fix.
Bryan leans back in his seat, watching me with that calm, calculating stare of his. Nate sits across from me, arms folded, his brow furrowed like he already knows what’s coming.
I take a breath.
