Something Old (The Jilted Series #1) - Liz Lovelock Page 0,3
have going in my room comes through the speaker from her end.
“Wow. He’s the quarterback for the New York Giants. How did we not know that?”
“Because the night we met there wasn’t a whole lot of discussion on our professions. Now that I think about it, he asked what I did and that was pretty much it. It was drinks, an Elvis wedding, and then an annulment. All in the space of twenty-four hours in Vegas.”
The memory races back into my thoughts.
When we woke and I saw the ring on my finger, and a matching one on his, I think we were both in too much shock to register any kind of feelings from the night before. There was chemistry—but chemistry isn’t hard to sustain for twenty-four hours.
But what if?
What if we could have had something more?
“Do you ever think about that night?” Vivian’s tone turns soft.
“It’s going to sound stupid, but yes, I have. Only randomly.” On the screen, Lachlan smiles and thanks the interviewer, and wow, that smile—it’s like a million dollars. “Seeing him now is stirring up all those feelings and memories again.”
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it,” she soothes and then asks, “Do you still have his number in your phone?”
“Probably. I don’t remember deleting it. But even if I still have his number, what would I do? Do I message him and say, ‘Hey, remember me? Your one-night-stand-turned-wife-and-then-ex-wife?’ I’m not seeking him out, Vivian. That would be silly.”
Now she has me wanting to seek him out. I shouldn’t. It was one night.
“Scarlett, take a damn chance. Look through your phone.”
“What if he changed his number?” I stare down at my cell as I talk. My finger flicks the call screen up, and I go into my long list of contacts. As I stand at the counter, my legs tremble.
“Then he changed it, and we move on.”
“Okay, hold on. I’m looking now.” Silence fills the line. I scroll through each of the names in my phone. “His name isn’t in the Ls.”
“Weren’t you calling him Hungry Eyes?”
“Oh, goodness. Did I really do that?” I slap a hand to my forehead. “Must have sounded so stupid to him.”
She scoffs. “I highly doubt that. He still married you, and from memory, he wasn’t as drunk as you were.”
This is new information. “Excuse me? Then why didn’t he stop the wedding?”
“I don’t know; your guess is as good as mine. Is his number in your phone?”
My microwave beeps, and I give the dish a quick stir before starting it again to make sure my meal is nice and hot.
Coming back to my phone, I begin scrolling again. Back up to the H’s I go.
“His name isn’t there.”
What little hope I had of reconnecting with him dies. I knew this would be the case.
“Damn. Maybe just scroll through every name and see if it’s under something else.”
I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard. “Viv, I really don’t think there’s any point. For all we know, he’s happily married and has kids with some supermodel.” I pour a large glass of wine and take a sip, the coolness coating my mouth.
“He’s not; I just googled him. He’s still very much single.” Of course, she has.
“Single or not, I’m not ready to uproot a past that he’s most likely put behind him. Why would I do that? He could have a girlfriend and it just not have been reported.”
“Trust me, he’s watched like a hawk. If he’s seeing someone, the world knows,” she states matter-of-factly.
“Then how is it I’ve never discovered he was a big-time quarterback until just now?” I shove a forkful of chicken in my mouth, the flavor dancing on my taste buds and instantly stopping the repeated rumble of my stomach.
“Scarlett, how many times have you been to or watched a football game?”
“Never,” I admit, feeling a little guilty.
“Exactly. You two were young, a one-night marriage turned into divorce. And now, you are older, wiser, and possibly perfect for each other.”
“I highly doubt that. You’re so optimistic.”
“Looking him up is better than sitting at home, wallowing over the ex who cheated on you and blew all your cash on presents for his mistress.”
“Who says I’m wallowing?” I joke, but her words sting a little because they’re right.
“You’re home alone on a Friday night, and you’ve turned the television on. That’s a major indicator that things aren’t great in that little head of yours.”
Damn her for knowing me so well.
I sigh.