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I hit End on my phone and place it on the kitchen counter, staring at it.
I still have the number of the private investigator I used when my mom called to hustle me for money. I wonder if he’s still in business. The question is, do I really want to use it?
There’s no going back.
Tripp’s advice flows through my brain. He’s right in the fact that Adelaide deserves a husband who is one hundred percent committed to the marriage. I’d be a liar if I said Lilah doesn’t continue to occupy a part of my brain. And yes, I’m sure a lot of the reason why is because there was no closure after she betrayed me. Within minutes, we were finished, and I couldn’t bear to listen to any of her excuses.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the PI's number. I’ll tell him I want him to locate her. I just want the address of where she lives, and no more information.
This is either one of the smartest or one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made. I hope it’s the former.
Chapter Forty-five
JIMMY
Aweek later, I’m sitting in a small cake shop off Melrose, understanding what Keane was saying about flour and eggs. The cakes are pretty, but all you get to remember it by is a picture.
“I’m thinking the lemon cake for the top two tiers, red velvet for the bottom, and vanilla with a butterscotch swirl for the other two tiers. What do you think, honey?” Adelaide’s hand presses on my thigh.
I blink. “Sorry, what?”
I zoned out again. I’ve yet to hear from the PI about Lilah, and she still won’t leave my mind.
A small pout forms on Adelaide’s lips. “For the cake. Are you feeling okay? You haven’t been yourself lately.” She smiles, gripping my thigh tighter, and giggles off any true concern. Surely these people aren’t surprised to see a groom who doesn’t give a shit about the cake they’re about to spend a fortune on. “Are you okay with those layers?”
I glance at the wedding designer and the celebrity cake designer looking on in anticipation.
“Whatever you want.” I grab her hand on top of my thigh and squeeze it.
“Are you sure? I want you to be happy too.” She leans her head on my shoulder, shooting me dreamy puppy dog eyes. It’s been her go-to move lately with anything wedding related, as if she needs permission.
“I don’t care about the cake. I just want to marry you.”
She beams and kisses my cheek. Before we can share any moment, she faces the pair of women sitting across from us. “It’s decided then. That’s what we’ll go with.”
“Excellent,” the wedding designer says, sharing a smile with the cake designer.
I’m sure she has a pretty nice commission tied into the price of the cake.
“Do you need anything else from us?” I ask, sitting up straighter.
“That should be it,” the cake designer says.
We stand and shake hands with the women, exchanging our goodbyes, then walk out. I slip my sunglasses off my head and onto my face, then I take Adelaide’s hand as we walk toward the car.
“You hungry?” I ask.
“I could eat a bit. I’d love a lunch with my fiancé.” She smiles.
I let her hand drop when we reach the car, and I walk around to the driver’s side. “You want to stay in town or grab something in Malibu?”
I press the key fob for my car, and we both climb in.
“Let’s head to Moonshadows,” she says.
I smile because that's where we went on our first official date.
Shortly after things went down with Lilah, Adelaide made her feelings for me known, but I rejected her. She took it hard, but I wasn’t in the headspace to be serious with anyone. Our friendship drifted and things got awkward. Until we saw one another at a premiere years later. She forgave me and accepted my dinner offer. We haven’t been to Moonshadows in a long time, and I worry that she's noticed I haven’t been completely present the last couple weeks and wants to remind me why we’re getting married.
