Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(85)

I continue silent, waiting to hear some clue as to what kind of relationship she has with this man.

“If you’re not ready to talk, please listen.” I wait and hear nothing. I think we’ve been disconnected, but then he continues, “I miss you, Laurie. We had a great thing going and I know we can get it back. Baby, no one knows about us. I convinced Mitch and the guys you just needed a little time to deal with the stress of the music industry, but they’re not going to wait forever. You need to come back to Nashville so we can push this record deal through. You need to come home to me.”

I’m still not positive who Blake Phillips is, but I’m getting a much clearer picture. He’s the one before me, the one who hurt Laurelyn.

“Laurie, I know you miss me.”

I’ve heard enough. “Laurelyn can’t come to the phone right now.”

There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “Who is this?”

“Jack McLachlan. I’m Laurelyn’s boyfriend, her Australian boyfriend. Because that’s where she is—in Australia with me. Not in Nashville with you.”

“I need to speak with Laurie as soon as possible. Please, tell her to call Blake.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you and you’re out of your f*cking mind if you think I’m telling my girlfriend to call her ex-hole. I’m sure you understand.” I press the end button because we’re done here.

Laurelyn is mine. Not his.

After I end the call, I thumb through photo after photo of Laurelyn with this guy and see the proof of her happy life before me. It’s unsettling, even painful to see.

I hear the shower cut off and try to decide what my approach will be to asking Laurelyn about her relationship with this guy. I’m sitting on the side of the bed when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel wrapped turban style around her hair. She’s as naked as the day she was born.

She’s startled to see me and lets out a girlish squeal as she uses her hands to cover herself. She realizes it’s me and grins as she drops her hands from her naked body. “Shit, you scared me. I thought you were gone for the day.”

“I was, but I came back for something.” I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want these feelings I have.

Laurelyn grins as she walks over to her lingerie drawer. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

I watch her step into a pair of white lace panties and pull them up. She reaches for the matching bra and slips her arms through it before fastening the clasp between her breasts.

I decide I’m done wondering. “Tell me who Blake Phillips is.”

She pales as she freezes in place. Her words come out as a whisper. “Why would you ask me that?”

I don’t like the way she’s affected by a question about him. “Because he called while you were in the shower.”

She busies herself with adjusting her bra to avoid looking at me. “You answered my phone?”

“The ‘Sex on Fire’ ringtone sort of caught my attention. I answered it because I want to know who the hell Blake Phillips is and what he wants with you.”

She stares blankly at me. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t want to tell me who he is or because I’m acting like a possessive Neanderthal. “I’m not used to this, Laurelyn. You know everything about my previous relationships. Everything! Including what a stretch this is for me, and I know so little about yours. I want to know who he is to you.”

I’m almost certain she’s going to tell me and then I feel a pang of fear. Maybe this isn’t something I want to hear, but it’s too late. “He was my record producer.”

I toss her phone toward her onto the bed so it lands screen side up featuring an affectionate picture of them together. “Does everyone kiss their record producer like that?”

She shuts her eyes and turns away from the phone. “Blake and I were spending a lot of time together while we were working on my album. One thing led to another and we started seeing each other. He told me it wouldn’t look good for him to be in a relationship with someone he was representing, and I believed him. It sounded like a legit reason to me, so we agreed to keep our relationship secret to protect our careers. I later found out he wanted to keep us secret because he was married with three kids. I was devastated. And I walked away from all of it. Him. The record deal. The music career I’d worked so hard for. Everything.”

Now, I really hate the motherf*cker. “When did it end?”

“Early December.” That was only a couple of weeks before she came here—not near long enough for her to be over him if she was in love with him.

“How long were you together?”

“Three months.” Almost the same amount of time she’s been with me.

I lean over with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “Do you love him?”

She doesn’t answer right away and my throat tries to eat my heart. “There was a time I thought I did, but that was before I knew the truth.” I want her to reach out and touch me as a sign of reassurance, but she doesn’t. “I loved a lie, and the truth shattered anything I felt for him.”

I want to look up at her, but I can’t. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “So, you feel nothing for him now?”

“No. I can’t love a lie and that’s all we were.” Her words are sobering. Hadn’t I asked her for a relationship based on a lie? He tricked her into being his dirty little secret, and I outright asked her to volunteer as mine.