Chapter 8
REID
Ibarely slept.
Around six thirty in the morning, I was still on the couch where I had collapsed the night before, staring at the ceiling. The engagement ring had been clutched in my hand when I finally drifted off for a restless hour or two, but when I woke up, it was gone.
“No, no, no,” I groaned, rolling to the floor. “Where is it?”
I knew I was being irrational because the ring couldn’t have disappeared on its own, but I panicked as I searched for it. I tore through the couch cushions, shoving my hands deep between them until my fingers finally closed around the cool band again.
“Thank fuck.”
Clenching the ring that I was determined to put back where it belonged, I flopped back down on the wrecked couch. I doubted it looked worse than me, though.
My dress shirt was wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, and the soggy socks I’d kicked off my feet last night were on the floor next to me. I’d raked my fingers through my hair more times than I could count, and my eyes burned from lack of sleep and the sting of tears I hadn’t been too proud to cry.
Lila had spent more nights here than at her own place lately, and I hadn’t been able to handle the thought of sleeping in my bed without her. She wasn’t supposed to be gone.
I kept checking my phone every few minutes, hoping she’d answer any of the messages I’d sent or voicemails I’d left. But there’d been nothing.
I needed to hear her voice, even if it was only a recording. And that was exactly what I got since she didn’t pick up when I called this time either.
“You’ve reached Lila Voss. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
I cleared my throat before the beep. “Hey, baby. I just...I know you’re upset.”
In Hollywood circles, I had a reputation for being a smooth motherfucker, but I couldn’t figure out what to say to the woman I loved. The last thing she probably wanted to hear from me right now was an explanation, so I kept it simple.
“I’m sorry. Can you call me back? Please?”
Instead of putting my phone down, I opened our thread again. The sight of her name at the top of the screen made my chest ache. But that didn’t stop me from scrolling through the texts, months of messages unfolding like a timeline I hadn’t paid enough attention to.
At first, the earlier exchanges made me smile despite everything. Playful good morning notes. Her sending me a mirror selfie from her station at the makeup trailer on set. Me telling her I couldn’t wait to get home to her. All simple but warm moments that reminded me how good we were together.
Then I noticed a shift over the past couple of months. The timing lined up with the distance I’d felt between us that I’d blamed on how busy we’d both been between work and wedding planning.
Lila
Are you almost done at work?
I hadn’t replied, and twenty minutes later, she’d sent another message.
Lila
I’m just going to head home. See you tomorrow.
It was rare that I missed a call or text from her, but a memory niggled at the back of my brain. Tapping out of our thread, I moved over to the one with Kaylee. Then I scrolled up to the same date and found a message from five minutes before Lila’s first text.
Kaylee
Sorry to be a bother, but I have a quick question on the new contract.
I’d been packing up, ready to head home for the night, when she’d sent it. But I’d stayed an extra half hour to go over everything, and by the time I called Lila, she was already driving in the wrong direction to spend the evening with me.
I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now I noticed how Kaylee’s name appeared again and again at inconvenient times. Catching me just as I was about to leave the office. Late-night questions. Random updates. Casual check-ins.
I hadn’t seen the pattern then. I’d thought Lila was overreacting when she said something about how Kaylee had been perched on the corner of my desk when my beautiful fiancée had surprised me with lunch. But maybe Lila had seen something I’d missed.
All that time, I had dismissed so many of her concerns, convinced they were small things that didn’t matter. Then she stopped bringing it up, so I thought everything was fine until last week.
But she hadn’t stopped hurting. She’d just stopped believing I would listen.
And rightly so because I’d so easily dismissed what she said, making excuses for Kaylee because I was convinced I was doing the right thing by keeping the peace at work.
Now I couldn’t escape the growing sense that I had been slowly pushing Lila away without even noticing.
Until she finally broke because of Kaylee’s post about lunch yesterday.
I opened social media and searched until I found the photo.
Kaylee was leaning slightly inward toward me, her body angled in a way that created an illusion of closeness. The camera angle from above and her positioning made my hand on the back of the chair look like it was wrapped around her waist.
Fuck. This looked bad.
No wonder Lila had been so upset.
And I had stood in my living room and defended it. Worse, I’d actually had the nerve to tell her she was blowing things out of proportion.
I had dismissed her pain while this image existed for everyone to see and interpret however they wanted. And judging by the plethora of comments, a fuck ton of strangers on the internet thought something was going on between Kaylee and me.
I stared at the photo until my vision blurred, the full weight of my own blindness crashing down on me. Sitting in my dim living room, I finally let the memories from last night play out without trying to push them away.
Lila had pulled her hand back when I reached for her. She had stepped away from me at the door, avoiding my touch. Tears had been streaming down her face as her voice broke. And she’d been right about not needing to compete for space in our relationship. I hated that I’d made her feel that way.
But there was no denying the truth—I hurt her.
Not because Kaylee manipulated things. This was my fault. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped hearing what Lila was trying to tell me.
The realization sat heavily in my stomach. My chest tightened painfully, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees as I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
I had made the woman I loved feel like she was secondary in her own relationship. I’d dismissed her valid concerns until she had no choice but to walk away.
As I started to spiral from the regret and guilt, my phone rang. Hope surged until I saw my mom’s name on the screen.
I was exhausted and emotionally wrecked, but I knew she’d keep calling if I didn’t answer. Or even worse, she’d show up unannounced to check on me in person.
“Hey.”
“Did you sleep?”
I looked down at the untouched coffee sitting on the table in front of me. At some point, I’d made a cup without really thinking about it. Now it had gone cold. “Not really.”
“Have you heard from Lila?”
My grip tightened around my phone. “No.”
There was a short pause before she muttered, “Good.”
I sat up so fast my neck protested. “What?”
“Don’t sound so offended,” she replied. “I’m not saying I’m happy she’s hurting. I’m saying I’m glad she isn’t answering if your plan was blowing up her phone until she picked up.”
I leaned forward, rubbing a hand over my face. “Mom, I want to fix this.”
“Reid.” Her voice softened, but only a little. “Did you sleep?”
“No.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“And you’ve probably called her what? Ten times by now?” she guessed.
“More like a dozen,” I admitted.
Mom sighed again. “You’d be better off putting that energy into coming up with a plan for you to prove to Lila that she can trust you to really listen to her going forward. That you’re willing to learn how to put your relationship where it’s always belonged, at the top of your priorities.”
I didn’t have an answer for that because I was starting to realize that loving Lila and making her feel loved weren’t necessarily the same thing.
“I hear what you’re saying, Mom.”
“But are you actually listening?”
“Yeah,” I rasped.
“Good, because if she gives you another chance, it’s almost definitely the only one you’ll get.”
And with that truth bomb, she ended the call.
The conversation had been tough, but she’d told me what I needed to hear.
I opened the web browser on my phone and searched for a therapist who specialized in relationship issues.
As the results filled the screen, I told myself this wasn’t just about getting Lila back.
I needed to understand how I had become someone who ignored her pain and made her cry.
The version of me that had stood in my living room last night wasn’t someone I liked very much.
If Lila ever gave me another chance, I wanted to be the man she should’ve had all along.