Page 94 of Love Arranged
“Will you grab me some popcorn too,baby?” A man I’ve seen working at Manny’s shop taunts with a kissy face.
I roll my eyes at him before heading to the concession stand. The line of twenty people wraps around the booth, but it seems to be quickly moving thanks to the four employees working behind the counter.
I’m about to get in line when I find my living nightmare standing near the end, looking casual with his hands tucked into his pockets.
I stumble back a step and bump into someone in the process, gaining the attention of a few people around me.
The person I ran into claps me on the shoulder. “You okay, Lorenzo?”
“I forgot my wallet.”
Trevor Ludlow turns at the sound of my voice, but I bolt before he can get a look at me. I’ve done my best to avoid him, and for the most part I’ve been successful, but tonight was a close call.
Too close.
My heart is racing by the time I make it back to the car.
“What happened to the snacks?” Lily asks when she sees me return empty-handed.
“Line was too long, and I didn’t want to miss the beginning of the movie.”
If Lily senses a lie, she doesn’t call me out on it, and I’m grateful. I can only handle so much tonight, and seeing Trevor pushed me to my absolute limit.
I can’t avoid him forever. Sooner or later, my past and future are going to collide.
And I have a feeling that when that time comes, it’s going to eat me alive.
21
LORENZO
I’m in the middle of wrapping up a phone call with the head architect at Morrison and Holmes—the architecture firm Lily mentioned being involved with the Lavender Lane project—when Manny strolls into the empty office space that I turned into my campaign headquarters. He takes a seat near the front entrance and pulls out his phone after I hold up a finger and tell him to wait.
“Are you still there, Mr. Vittori?” the architect asks.
“Yes. Sorry about that. I just wanted to say I appreciate how forthcoming you’ve been during this call.” I can’t find it in me to smile. Despite the huge win for my campaign and the upcoming mayoral debate, my stomach is in knots from this conversation, and it has nothing to do with lying to get information out of the Ludlows’architects.
I hate to admit it, but my uncle was correct when he said if the price is right, people will always talk, and turns out the architects at Morrison and Holmes are loyal to a paycheck rather than a person.
Their lack of integrity absolves me of any guilt I’d feel from lying to them about my Vittori Holdings connections or the made-up project they’ll get to bid on.
“We look forward to working together,” the woman says.
“We’ll keep in touch.” I hang up and wave Manny into my office.
My campaign volunteers are used to Manny stopping by unannounced, so they ignore him as he walks past their desks and heads straight toward mine located in the back of the office space. The little chip on his front tooth is on full display, and his brown eyes crinkle at the corners from how wide he smiles at me.
He holds a bouquet of flowers out for me to grab. “Here.”
“Don’t tell me these are for me,” I deadpan before assessing his choice of flowers like he’s a contestant on some show.
“You owe me seventy-five bucks.”
“What for?”
“Your girlfriend’s flowers aren’t cheap.”
“She should’ve charged you double for bothering her.”
