Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(107)

“All right. I’m ready for your judgment.” I bring it on with a flick of my fingers.

“I want to give you a hard time about this, but I’m pretty sure you’re doing an incredible job of that, so I’ll refrain from judging too harshly.”

“Thanks for your generosity,” I reply dryly.

“But…”

“I knew you were holding back.”

She chuckles. “An anonymous dating app? Seriously? You were practically begging to be catfished!”

If my bed wasn’t so far away, I’d grab a pillow and launch it at her head.

“Well, what happened was way worse!”

“Can I see the app? I’m curious how it looks.”

My cheeks flush as I redownload the app and log back in. With how Lorenzo and I left things, I don’t expect to see a new message notification in the corner from Laurence.

“Laurence! Like the note he left with the bracelet.” Dahlia clicks on the inbox because she’s a nosy brat.

“Hey!” I push her away before she can see the screen before me.

The last message has a time stamp from two days ago, but the ones before that… There are probably fifty unread messages in our chat, with the oldest one dating back to about a month ago.

Shocked doesn’t scratch the surface of how I feel.

Lorenzo has been using our old chat like a diary, and I almost feel like I’m in the wrong for reading the messages, even when I know he wrote them here on purpose.

Because I can’t help myself, I read the newest ones first, ignoring the way my sister does the same from over my shoulder.

LAURENCE

Doctor Martin had asked me to think about

what Lake Wisteria means to me, and I finally

figured out my answer three weeks later.

LAURENCE

At first Lake Wisteria was a place to escape

to, but over time it became my home, and

that is all because of you.

LAURENCE

If our situation was different, I’d want to

spend forever in this town, and I want to

spend forever with you.

Warmth spreads through my body, and I reread that sentence three times before Dahlia startles me.

“What does he mean by ‘if our situation was different’? Does he not plan on staying here?” she asks.

“Not if he loses.”

“What? Why?”

“I…I honestly don’t know.”

She stares at me, probably gauging how serious I am. “And you haven’t pushed for an answer to literally the most important question of your entire relationship?”

“No.” I stare down at my lap.

“Lily,” she groans. “You have to ask him why. If not for you both to overcome it, then for closure.”

“But what if it proves that I’m not good enough?”

“Did you read his messages? Because he might be a man with many issues, but none of them seem to be about you,” she says right as the doorbell rings.

“Shit! What time is it?”

“Five.”

I look at my half-finished face of makeup. “I can’t go out there looking like this.”

Dahlia stands with a smile. “Oh, don’t worry. Lorenzo and I have a few things to catch up on.”

“Dahlia…”

“I’ll buy you ten minutes, so get to it.” She escapes my room, careful not to trip over the random obstacles in her way.

“Be nice to him!”

“I will be, right after I give him hell first.”

I almost feel bad for Lorenzo.

Emphasis on the almost.




I come out from my room ten minutes later, dressed and ready for our meeting with the reporter, fully expecting my sister and Lorenzo to be in the middle of a conversation.

Except I find Lorenzo sitting by himself in our living room, looking down at his phone.

“Where’s Dahlia?” I ask.

He looks up but doesn’t answer my question right away. Instead he takes his time checking me out. I’ve worn this dress twice in front of him already, but he stares at me like he’s never seen it—or me—before.

Butterflies break out in my stomach, a betrayal of the worst kind given our situation. Because regardless of how good he makes me feel, we are over.

Even if he won the campaign, I wouldn’t take him back. Not when he didn’t feel like he had a good enough reason to stay before the results.

“My sister?” I ask again while he checks out my heels.

He clears his throat. “She had to go. But before she left, she said to remind you to ask me why I insist on moving away if I lose.”

I wince. “Great.” Typical Dahlia, always inserting herself into situations that I can handle myself.

“So, you told her about us?”

“Yup.” I grab my purse off the hook by the front door.

“Why?”

“She knew something was wrong, so I couldn’t exactly hide it from her anymore.”

His frown reaches his eyes. Wanting to avoid looking into them, I open the door and wait for him to exit before I lock up behind him.

“And you told her I’d leave?”

I wait to answer him until we’re in his car—some black retro sedan I don’t recognize—and away from any pesky neighbors. “Not at first. She asked me to show her the Eros app, and then she saw the last couple of messages you sent—”