Beauty from Surrender (Beauty 2)

"I wish I could, but I don't have the necessary skills to track her down."

"Son, I'm not sure finding her is going to be your biggest problem. You've hurt her in a terrible way. She may not forgive you, so it might be smart to prepare yourself for rejection."

The thought of Laurelyn rejecting me is painful but it's a reality I can't ignore. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make it up to her because I hate what me without her looks like. I'm going to win her back, and when I do, I'm never letting her go again."

I think she suspects what I'm implying but I decide to clear it up for her so there's no misunderstanding. "I don't want to ever spend another day without Laurelyn. When I find her, I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Chapter Three

I stand in front of the mirror and look at myself. I look like hell.

I smudge coverup under my eyes to disguise the dark circles but there's no hiding the misery there. No amount of makeup is going to camouflage that. I pointlessly sweep some blush across my cheeks, but it only makes my face appear more sunken and my eyes bigger. I don't have to get on the scales to know I've lost weight. If my face doesn't prove it, my loose clothes do.

My food situation is almost nonexistent but I can't make myself go grocery shopping. It doesn't matter anyway. I can't eat. The pizza I ordered two nights ago is still sitting almost untouched in the fridge. A few bites—that's all I could force down before it almost sent me running to the bathroom. That's what I'm reduced to. I miss him so badly, the misery of being away from him makes me sick.

I know I can't continue like this. I'm still waiting for it to get better. Come on, it has to get better at some point, right?

I've survived almost two weeks without Jack Henry. It's day twelve I've been without his touch, without hearing his voice, without feeling him next to me in bed at night. It hasn't been easy. If I'm being truthful, it's been the worst hell I've ever experienced in my life—well beyond any pain I've ever felt before.

My mother has begged me all week to come over to see her—and my father. She's so happy about being reunited with his married ass. Even having not been taught how wrong it is to be with a married man, I still know it's not right. The only good part of her obsession is that she's been too wrapped up in him to come by to check on me.

I sigh as I finish my makeup and assess the situation. It's a poor one, I'm afraid. I look miserable and I'm certain Blake is going to believe it's all for him. It sickens me to think of seeing him today, but I can't hide in this apartment for the rest of my life. I have a career that requires attention. My manager, David, was very clear when he told me to get my ass straightened out and down to the label to salvage what career I have left. It's either do as he says, or he's dropping me. I can't allow that to happen.

I recall his words and want to puke. Laurelyn, you kiss Blake's ass or whatever it takes to make this right.

Nothing is going to make this right. It sickens me further that my future and career is dependent on Blake Phillips. He holds the power to ruin me if he tells the right industry people that I walked out on him during the recording. No one will care about the circumstances leading up to why I did it.

I make the drive to the studio and sit in my car for a few minutes gathering my thoughts—and strength—before I get out. It's not Blake I'm nervous about. It's the idea of reentering my old life, my life before Jack Henry. I'm overwhelmed by the thought of entering that building because it feels like I'm going backward. I hate it.

I look at his picture on my phone, stroking my finger over his five o'clock shadow and remembering how stubbly his face would feel at the end of the day, especially by the time he came to bed. Oh, how I miss its roughness against my face. My stomach. My inner thighs. My…

I have to stop this. As much as I'd like to, I can't sit in my car outside the studio and mind-fuck Jack Henry all day.

I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders before I walk into the building leading to my past. I'm waiting for the elevator when I feel a presence behind me. I know it's him—Blake. I don't have to look to know but I pretend I don't realize anyone is there. He doesn't say a word and I wonder if it's because he didn't know I was coming and he's shocked to see me. I hope he's speechless because he's ashamed of what he did to me.

When the doors ding open, I step inside and he follows me. We're alone in the small space. Thank God it's only for the brief ride up to the twelfth floor because the tension is suffocating.

My eyes are locked straight ahead and I say nothing. I see him in my peripheral vision, blatantly staring at me, but I don't acknowledge him. I pretend he's invisible—because that's what he is to me.

"Laurelyn," he says as he reaches for my arm. I step back so he misses it. "Don't be this way. I've missed you."

I escape him through the opening doors without uttering a word. We'll speak soon enough when I'm forced to talk to him about our recording contract—and I will talk business—but I refuse to address personal things or our past. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to discuss.

David is waiting in the studio, and he crosses the distance between us. Despite his anger, he embraces me. "Laurelyn, I'm very happy you came. I wasn't sure you'd show but I'm glad to see you're here."

It's good to see David. He has been a presence in my life for a long time and I've missed him. He knows nothing about the things that occurred between Blake and me, and that's the way I plan to keep it. I don't want him to be disappointed in me for jeopardizing my career by becoming involved with my producer—married or not.

Word of my return travels fast and people are in and out of the studio to see if the rumor is true. I'm greeted by those I once saw on a daily basis, but then the dust settles and there's business to discuss.

I count on David to handle the details for me, and he does like the beast of a manager he is. In under an hour, there's an agreement reached. Things went well—better than I could've ever imagined—and tomorrow, we'll return to recording the album I walked away from four months ago.

Perhaps Blake carries some guilt for what he did to me and that's why he was so willing to negotiate with us. Even I have to admit that he didn't have to do that; I was the one in breach of our contract.

As I'm waiting to catch a ride down, I'm feeling pretty shitty about having just sacrificed myself and everything I believe for the sake of making my dreams come true. But it's the viciousness of the industry. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do in order to get ahead. I just have to get through this recording and then hope I never have to lay eyes on Blake Phillips's ass again.