Loving Violet by Terri Anne Browning

Author:Terri Anne Browning
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anna Henson

Chapter 28

Violet

Two months later

I frowned down at the phone in my left hand and lifted the bottle of tequila with my right.

Luca: She lost the baby.

I took a shot after reading the text for the second time. It and the ones below it had come in throughout the afternoon and into the evening, and I’d only glanced at them for a second before getting ready to go out.

Luca: I still don’t know if it was mine because I’m not going to make them do a paternity test.

I took another shot. Now, we would never know. Not that it mattered if Luca was the father or not. It was over with us before she’d even told him she was pregnant.

Luca: I’m sorry she had a miscarriage. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But I’m so fucking glad this is over.

I was sorry she’d lost the baby, too. Sorry for her, and even a little sorry for Luca. It made me sad for them, and that only pissed me off. I shouldn’t feel anything for those two, and yet there I was, hurting for the asshole who had broken my heart.

This time when I took a swallow of the amber liquor, it didn’t even burn on the way down. I used to be a lightweight, but lately, I’d built up more of a tolerance. Probably because every weekend I found a new party to go to and a new drink of choice to do shots of until I didn’t give a single fuck about anything.

This week, I was in some West Hollywood mansion. It wasn’t a high school party, and I really wasn’t sure how I’d gotten the invite to this one, but I knew it came from the hot college guy I’d made out with at the party the previous Saturday.

Luca: I miss you so much, baby. Please answer this time.

I rolled my eyes at the newest message that had only just come in. He was always messaging me. Sometimes acting like nothing had happened and we were still together. He would talk to me like he always used to and tell me about his day. If something particularly good had happened to him, I would get a text immediately.

Sometimes, he’d be remorseful, telling me how sorry he was. Other times, like this last text, he’d beg me to talk to him. And once, he’d gotten so pissed because he couldn’t take my silence a second longer, and I’d received a text that basically called me a two-timing whore. He was drunk that time and had seen some of the pictures I’d been in on Instagram, making out with some random guy. I knew because he’d texted me an apology the next morning when I wouldn’t answer his call.

And like I always did, I would read his texts but leave them unanswered.

Maybe I was a masochist and loved the pain I felt every time I saw his name pop up on my screen, but I hadn’t blocked him or even thought about changing my number.

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