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Not once had I thought he would do something like this. Whatever the hell “this” was.
“I heard a girl in the background,” I told his sister. “She said ‘Luca baby.’”
Lucy burst out laughing. “No way. Lyric, sure. He’s such a player, it’s almost funny. But not Luca.”
“I know what I heard,” I whispered, my chin starting to tremble. “He was with a girl.”
Seeing how upset I was, Lucy wrapped her arms around me. “Okay, I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation. Call him back. Knowing my brother, I bet it’s funny.”
I was already doing just that, but it went straight to voice mail without even ringing, and my stomach protested. “He turned off his phone.”
“Maybe it died,” she said, but her eyes darkened. “Call Lyric.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I hit connect for Lyric and waited for him to answer. It rang a half dozen times before he picked up. There was loud music in the background, along with lots of voices and girls giggling annoyingly. It took several moments before I even heard Lyric’s voice. “Sup, Vi?”
“What are you doing?” I whispered, unable to make my voice any stronger.
Lucy grabbed my phone out of my hands and lifted it to her ear. “Lyric Thornton, what the actual fuck are you and Luca doing?” As she listened, I saw her eyes narrow and almost felt sorry for her brother. “You are both whiny little assholes, you know that?” she raged at him after he finished speaking. “Did it not occur to either of you that the reason no one told either of you happy birthday today was because we had something special planned? Now you’re having some stupid party in a hotel, and your entire family is about to show up at your house in less than an hour.”
I closed my eyes. Of course they had thrown their own party. That was definitely something Luca would have done, and I really wasn’t all that upset about it. But that girl I’d heard…
My heart was cracking open, and I couldn’t stop it. Tossing the confetti I’d been decorating the drinks station with into the small trash can at my feet, I turned away from the two huge cakes Aunt Layla had set out only moments ago. She’d gone back into the
kitchen to finish making the dozens upon dozens of appetizers she’d been hard at work cooking all day.
One of the cakes was a replica of the Tuscaloosa football stadium. It read “Happy Birthday, Luca,” across the field inside.
The other was a huge, lifelike tattoo gun that read “Happy Birthday, Lyric” in icing on the sheet cake underneath it.
Even with as many people as would be coming to the party, there was no way all of that cake would get eaten. Normally whenever someone in my family had a party and there was a lot of leftover food, we donated it to a local soup kitchen. I wasn’t sure if that was what would happen with the cake that wasn’t eaten, but I didn’t plan on sticking around this time to find out.
While Lucy continued to rip her brother a new asshole, I walked into the kitchen.
Aunt Layla and Aunt Lana were both at the stove, stirring pots. They turned when I walked in, smiles on their faces. “How’s it going in there, sweetheart?” Aunt Layla asked as she lifted her pot and carried it to the sink.
“I didn’t want to be rude and just leave without saying anything. But I’m going to head home,” I told Luca’s mom, swallowing the nausea I felt as I remembered that girl’s voice.
“Luca baby,” kept repeating over and over in my head, and I was already getting a headache from it. It was going to drive me insane, and all I wanted was to go home and cry.
Luca had never given me a reason to feel this way about other girls in the past. We always knew we were meant for each other, that our future was set in stone. He was mine, and I was irrefutably his. Even my dad, as hard as he tried to deny it over the years, had finally realized that. But ever since I’d come face-to-face with Megan Hawthorn, things had been different.
I was jealous every time I thought about her. She went to the same school as him, was in the same grade, probably had some of the same classes—something I hadn’t even asked Luca about. And every time I heard “Luca baby,” she was the one I pictured saying it.
Aunt Layla turned wide eyes on me. “What? Violet honey, what’s wrong?” She quickly crossed to me and gently grasped my hands. “Did something happen?”
“I just think it would be better if I went home,” I told her with a smile that physically hurt my face.
Aunt Lana came up behind her sister, her eyes narrowed on my face. I swear, she could see so much more than anyone else could at times. Maybe even more than Aunt Emmie did.
No, I chided myself as I avoided her gaze. No one ever saw more than Aunt Emmie. And I was beyond grateful she wasn’t there at that moment.
The kitchen door was pushed open behind me, and a steaming Lucy stomped into the room. “Those two assholes are at the fucking Wilshire, having a party in the penthouse.”
“They’re where?” Aunt Layla murmured, her voice soft, but from the murderous look on her face, I knew her tone was deceptive.
“Apparently we hurt their little feelings by not so much as telling them ‘happy birthday’ today, and they decided to give themselves a party. Pretty sure Lyric was drinking, and I kept hearing some whiny little slut crying in the background for Luca to—” She broke off abruptly when I turned tear-filled eyes on her.
“No,” I told her in a choked voice. “Finish what you were saying.”
