Broken.
Worthless.
I clawed at the floor and grabbed my phone. Through blurry eyes, I opened my email, sending a single sentence to Grace.
The album and tour are off.
Then I dialed the number of the only person who understood me—the one person whose voice I needed to hear.
TWENTY-SEVEN
McKenzie
My phone buzzedfrom my back pocket as I loaded more sliders onto a serving platter Saturday night around 9:30 p.m., topping off more of the appetizers and desserts. It was the third time it had gone off in the last ten minutes, but I didn’t have time to check it. My week from hell had stretched through to the weekend. I’d only managed to get about four hours of sleep the night before, and because we’d been short-staffed at work, I was also short-staffed at the party.
About fifty people were sandwiched into Kia’s boutique, including Jen and Ravi, who’d just gotten drink refills from Abbey, the one person who’d been able to join me when I was supposed to have two more sets of hands on deck, before ambling over to me.
“McKenzie, you killed it,” Ravi said, piling his plate with sliders, blueberry mac and cheese, and a few more of the dessert offerings. “These mini pie bites are insane.”
“The blackberry bourbon is my fave,” Jen garbled around a pie bite. “The crust is so flaky.”
“Thanks, guys.” I barely looked up from the confections I was placing on one of the tables, decorated in shades of pink. My phone buzzed again, and I gritted my teeth, finally plucking it out of my pocket. It was Luca.
Can you talk?
Call me please.
Something was up. This wasn’t like him, and he knew how important this party was to me. Or maybe he didn’t. He hadn’t seemed much aware of anything that wasn’t directly related to him and his new album, his upcoming tour, or the interviews he’d been doing.
I chided myself. That wasn’t entirely fair for me to say. He may not have been aware, but I also wasn’t exactly going out of my way to make him aware either.
I tapped out a quick text and hit send.
Working. Call u in a bit.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Jen asked, her brows knitted together.
“Oh yeah. I’m fine,” I said, waving her off. “Just busy.”
She narrowed her eyes as though she wasn’t sure she believed me, but she let it go.
“Okay. We’re going to mingle, but if you need anything, let me know,” Jen said.
“Hey, Abbey, can you keep an eye out?” I asked as Jen and Ravi disappeared into the sea of people. “I need to mix up some more punch.”
“Sure,” she answered, and I weaved my way through the crowd to the break room. My phone vibrated as patrons stopped me to rave over the food and hummed again when I finally made it to the back to throw together more punch. I released a frustrated groan as I brought out the pitcher to Abbey to load into the dispenser, my backside buzzing.
“I need to go to the restroom real quick,” I whispered to her. “Can you handle things for a couple more minutes?”
“Yeah,” she said, pouring someone else another glass of the fizzy blush-colored liquid. “Just hurry back.”
I nodded, then quickly moved toward the back again and into the break room, pulling out my cell. Before I could call him, his name showed up on the screen. I swiped to answer the call, pressing the phone to one ear, while I plugged the other with my finger to drown out the noise filtering in from the party down the hall.
“Hey, babe,” I said. “I’m kind of swamped here. What’s going on?”
“I know.” His voice came out choked, ragged. “I’m sorry.”
