Page 44 of The Mood Board

“I have. Look”—the leather creaked again—”can I come over? I can’t stand it anymore. I have to see you.”

“Of course,” I answered and gave him my address even as my pulse skyrocketed, my anxiety spiraling to dangerous levels.

Russ hung up, promising he would be over soon, and I thanked him and hung up, the room swimming from the tears in my eyes.

I sank onto the couch and pulled down one of the pictures from the table behind it, staring as my mind whirled and stormed and nearly tore itself to pieces with fear. I hadn’t seen Russ in years and hoped never to again. I was terrified to see him again, to be near the man who had crushed me so badly in almost every way possible.

What I wished more than anything was that Liam was home so I could cling to him, find my calm in him, safety from the demons that refused to stop haunting me. Or trying to possess me. I wanted the comfort and security I had with him, which let me know I wasn’t alone, even when I had to face my fears by myself.

It always amazed me the way Liam and I had become each other’s comfort and rock when we needed strength. I had heard about relationships like that, but I thought they weren’t for me at best or were a myth at worst.

But with Liam, I had found that and more—I had found a home.

Tears blurred the photo in front of me that Liam and I had taken on a vacation to the south of France just a few months ago. In it, we were on the beach, arms wrapped tightly around each other, enormous grins on our faces, cheeks bright from laughing—it had been a challenge to get the right angle with the phone, one that had left us gasping for breath and wiping tears from our eyes.

Now I was wiping tears away for a different reason that squeezed my heart until it was painful, one that had me wishing so desperately to be back in that moment when our world had been safe, beautiful, and good.

Holding the picture to me, I sat there for as long as I possibly could, trying to imagine Liam’s arms around me and the advice and encouragement he would give me in that moment.

I didn’t get up until the doorbell rang, then rang again when I didn’t immediately answer it. But I finally rose to my feet, replacing the photo among the others, and took a deep, calming breath before crossing the room.

Russ’s face lit up when I opened the door, his gaze traveling down my body before sliding back to my face in a way that made my skin prickle. But I ignored the sensation and gave him my most radiant smile.

“Hey.”

“Hello to you, too.” Russ leaned down and gave me a peck on the cheek, lingering just a moment too long before he pulled back. “You look great, Bailey.”

For once, what I heard was genuine, though my return smile was not. “Thanks.”

Russ hadn’t changed a bit since I had last seen him—same brilliant smile, same intensely green eyes and tanned skin, same slightly tousled, black hair, same face with the chiseled cheekbones that belonged in a magazine. He wore dark jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt under a leather jacket today. He had always said black was his color, and that was one thing I couldn’t disagree with him on.

The guy could have easily been a model and had done a few gigs in high school and college. I had desired him in ways that had scared me and made me betray myself.

But I knew who and what he was now, and the good-looking mask couldn’t hide the ugliness of his soul. He was darkness to Liam’s bright light and sun, which made him all the sexier and more desirable to me. Never mind his surfer-boy tousled hair, his sexy grin, his incredible swimmer’s body, and the way he looked at me with unabashed love and desire.

Russ had nothing on Liam.

My ex pushed past me and into the house, though I hadn’t invited him, ignoring my desire to run fast and run far. He was looking at the home with unabashed judgment.

“This is a nice place,” he said. “Have to say I was expecting more, but it’s nice for what it is.”

“Expecting more?” I asked.

He turned and tilted his head. “Yeah. Isn’t this where you live with your billionaire boyfriend?”

“I do.” I shut the door but didn’t lock it—not yet. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want to cut off an exit.

“Hey, Bailey, I’m sorry about all of that. I saw the news about your boyfriend—”

“My fiancé,” I corrected, my tone sharper than I had meant. His repeated reference to Liam as my boyfriend, despite the visible ring on my finger, grated on my nerves. “Liam is my fiancé.”

“—saw the news and thought I would call you to see how you’re holding up.”

“I’m about as well as can be expected,” I admitted. “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Russ made himself too comfortable on the couch while I got him his usual—whiskey, neat—and myself water. My stomach was roiling far too much to keep down any type of alcohol.