by Gina Azzi
Saving My Soul
Copyright © 2020 by Gina Azzi
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Saving My Soul
Second Chance Chicago Series
Gina Azzi
Contents
1. Harlow
2. Connor
3. Harlow
4. Connor
5. Harlow
6. Connor
7. Harlow
8. Connor
9. Harlow
10. Connor
11. Harlow
12. Connor
13. Harlow
14. Connor
15. Harlow
16. Connor
17. Harlow
18. Connor
19. Harlow
20. Connor
21. Harlow
22. Connor
23. Harlow
24. Connor
25. Harlow
26. Connor
27. Harlow
28. Connor
29. Harlow
30. Connor
31. Harlow
32. Connor
Epilogue
Healing My Heart
Also by Gina Azzi
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Harlow
“I got this. I’m good,” I tell my reflection, squaring my shoulders and fluffing my hair at the roots. I give myself a final once-over, leaning closer to the mirror to check that my eyeliner isn’t smudged before stepping back, satisfied.
I catch my fingers fiddling with my nose ring the way I always do when I’m nervous. It’s my tell and I hate it.
Yanking my hand away, I grip the bathroom vanity and let out a slow breath.
I’m not nervous. I’m good. I’m good!
I curled my honey-blonde hair so it falls softly around my face. My eyes pop with the new eyeliner I bought at the airport and my lips are painted in my favorite shade of hot pink: Candy Kiss.
“You’re an independent woman,” I remind my reflection, nodding to solidify the claim. “You’re in a stable relationship, your career is on track, you’re…put together.” I roll my eyes at how lame that sounds, turn away from the mirror in the W Hotel’s luxurious bathroom and step back into my hotel room.
An image of the other half of my stable relationship, Bryce Hawke, fills my mind and I smile, my fingertips pressing against my lips.
I’m not nervous; I’m excited. That’s all this is.
Two weeks ago, when we were shopping in Beverly Hills, Bryce pointed out the engagement ring. A flawless, three-carat, princess cut wonder that he said would look “perfect” on my ring finger.
Sinking to the edge of the bed, I savor the butterflies fluttering against my ribcage.
I’m just excited.
Not at all nervous about being back in Chicago and seeing him. Connor Scott.
Nope. Because I’m good. Bryce and I are good.
So what if my breath doesn’t catch when Bryce enters a room the way it always does with Connor? Who cares if my skin doesn’t tingle from Bryce’s glance alone like when Connor turned his eyes on me?
I’m not twenty-three anymore. That passionate, intense, so-hot-I-could-burn-to-ash fascination isn’t healthy for what I want now.
Stability. Commitment. A family.
Connor Scott never indicated that he was capable of any of those things.
My phone chimes with a message and I swipe it off the nightstand. Bryce must be checking on me. Disappointment swirls in my stomach that it’s not him, but it quickly morphs into excitement when I read Zoe’s name.
Zoe: Hey! Are you almost here?
Me: Yes! Leaving hotel now. Can’t wait to see the birthday girl!
Zoe: You could have stayed with us.
Me: I flew in at the butt crack of dawn.
Zoe: (eye roll emoji) Maddie is so excited! Don’t be alarmed if she approaches you with scissors… but DO NOT cut her hair. She’s extra when embracing the Dora theme of her party.
I burst out laughing, imagining the daughter of my closest girlfriend Zoe and my former boss, Hollywood hotshot Eli Holt, sneakily trying to cut her hair to look more like an animated character. Kids are mischievous, but any offspring of Eli is bound to give Zoe a run for her money.
Me: Got it! She’s hilarious. See you guys soon. Anything I can bring?
Zoe: Just yourself.
Shouldering my purse, I pick up the large shopping bag holding Maddie’s neatly wrapped birthday gift. A balloon is tied to the handle and I grin at the big number three bouncing in the air. I step into the hallway and head for the elevators.
Wanting to surprise my “niece” on her special day, I took the red-eye from L.A. so I could arrive at her party before her friends show up.
If I happen to also arrive before her “uncle,” Eli’s best friend Connor, well, that’s just icing on the cake and not at all why I chose a damn red-eye over a full night’s sleep.
I slip into a taxi and relax against the backseat. I try to remember the last time Connor and I spoke. Not counting greetings or superficial platitudes, it’s been more than two years. Since then, I’ve paraded around the L.A. party scene with a multitude of men, desperately trying to replace Connor’s touch with one that would make me feel whole instead of empty.
No one has ever come close. Except Bryce.
“Thank you.” I slip the fare to the driver as I slide out of the cab and square my shoulders in front of Eli and Zoe’s gorgeous, contemporary home.
Glancing down at my designer threads that artfully show off the svelte figure I’ve literally worked my ass off for, I blow out a deep breath and enter the beautiful home.
Maddie’s squeals pierce the foyer. Footsteps rush the door. Her face opens like a sunflower when she sees me, sprinting straight for my legs and knocking me back a few steps. I teeter in my four-inch heels, grabbing the doorframe to catch myself.
Laughing, I wrap Maddie in my arms, holding her tight.
My heart aches in my chest as I breathe in her sweet scent. “I missed you, Ms. Madison Ann.”
“You’re here!” Zoe exclaims, appearing behind Maddie.
“I’m here.” I grin at her, kissing her cheek in greeting.
“You’re the first one!” Maddie tells me.
“That’s because I’m the best one.”
Maddie giggles before slyly asking, “What’s in the bag?”
“Madison Ann,” Zoe scolds her daughter.
“Just the best birthday gift in all the land.” I crouch down until I’m eye-level with Maddie, the present in between us. “Want to add it to your gift table?”
Maddie’s eyes glimmer and she smiles, her dimple popping. The perfect mix of Eli and Zoe, Maddie’s got her father’s charm and her mother’s sweetness. Basically, telling her no is impossible and giving in to all of her demands is the only answer. At least, as her auntie.
“What do you say?�
� Zoe prods Maddie.
“Thank you, Auntie Harlow.” My sweet girl winds her arms around my neck for a quick hug before grasping the balloon string and pulling the gift into the living room.
“She’s too much,” I laugh, standing up.
“She’s definitely that,” Zoe agrees. “Come on.” She curls her arm around my waist, steering me toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you a drink. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
“Way too long,” I agree. “Are you coming out to L.A. for the Reckless Waters film premiere?”
“Of course.” Zoe waves a hand. We stop at the kitchen island and she fixes us mimosas. “I’m so proud of Eli. He’s really excited about this film. It’s going to be interesting to watch it with a more technical eye, instead of drooling over Eli’s abs.”
I snort, rolling my eyes.
“What?” Zoe laughs. “He has hot abs! But as much as I love seeing my husband on screen, he’s much more content in the director’s chair. Co-directing is definitely a new challenge for him and I like seeing him so excited about a project again. Will you be there? With Bryce?” Her eyebrows raise and a wide smile crosses her mouth.
“Yes!” I clasp her hand. “Fly out early. We’ll spend time together before the premiere.”
“Oh, thank God! I’d love to. We can sit together too.”
“Absolutely.” I clink my glass against hers before taking a sip. I hope Bryce hasn’t already committed us to a seating arrangement. He usually tries to capitalize on these opportunities to shore up support for a role he’s considering or get a pulse on some issue circling in the industry. But to sit with my friends—
“Low,” Eli’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn as he enters the kitchen.
Eli Holt has been a Hollywood megastar since the moment he exploded on the scene six years ago. But now, dressed in ripped jeans and a casual gray T-shirt, he looks happier than ever before, including the night he won a Golden Globe for his performance in Dangerous Devils.
“Dad life suits you, Eli.” I smile as he pulls me into a big hug.
“Jesus, it’s been too damn long. You should visit more often.” He leans back, peering at me. “You know, if you can pull yourself away from the bright lights and Bryce’s ego.”
“Eli,” Zoe warns.
“What?” My former boss, turned friend, turned family, shrugs. “His giant head isn’t a secret.”
“Who has a giant head?” Maddie asks, zooming around the corner.
Eli catches her and raises her over his head. “Actors. They are the absolute worst, Maddie.”
“I thought you were an actor, Daddy.”
“You thought wrong, Princess. I’m the tickle monster.” He shakes her, tickling her like crazy, as she erupts in laughter.
While Eli runs Maddie through the first floor of the house, I try to shake off the bubble of doubt caused by Eli’s words. It’s no secret that my friends’ acceptance of the news of my dating Bryce was lukewarm at best. While Zoe has actively tried to form a friendship with Bryce over the past year, Eli’s complete dismissal stings, especially since Bryce starred in Reckless Waters. Sipping my mimosa, I swallow the champagne, now tinged with bitterness, and turn my attention back to Zoe.
“Don’t mind him,” she says gently. “The most important thing is that you’re happy.”
“Right.” I smile, placing my glass on the counter. “And I am. Happy.”
“Good.” My friend grins but the light in her eyes dims, as if she doesn’t believe a word of it.
My mouth drops open to explain how Bryce and I are moving forward in our relationship, even talking marriage, when a voice cuts through the air, causing shivers to skate up my spine.
“Where’s the birthday girl?” A deep rumble echoes through the foyer as the front door closes.
Connor walks into the kitchen, birthday gift in hand. My gaze connects with his. At his startled expression, my stomach sinks and twists. Did he think I wouldn’t come to Maddie’s birthday party? Is he happy or disappointed that I’m here?
A strange mixture of shame and doubt coats my veins at Eli’s rejection of Bryce. The offsetting emotions deepen under Connor’s scrutiny.
Confusion swirls in my stomach as I blink and look away.
“Hey,” his voice rasps and I shiver again. Coarse like gravel, smooth like whiskey, and sexy as sin, Connor Scott unleashes a million butterflies in my stomach and twists my thoughts into knots.
With one word, he makes me question if my reactions to Bryce are ever this visceral. Guilt burns my chest and an unexpected sting of tears forms behind my nose.
I let out a slow exhale, trying to shore up my resolve to ‘act normal.’ But some things never change, and my body’s natural pull toward Connor is one of them.
“Connor.” Zoe steps forward to hug him hello. “Drink?”
“Just a water. Thanks, Zo,” he responds, his gaze still locked on me.
I clear my throat. “Hi.”
Connor nods, taking a swig of water.
“I just want to check on a few things before everyone arrives,” Zoe explains, leaving the kitchen.
The moment she does, the air seems to constrict.
Connor leans against the countertop, crossing his ankles. He’s calm, at ease, normal. “How’s it going?”
I wrap my fingers around the stem of my champagne flute, just to have something to do with my hands.
I’m good. I’m good. I’m good.
My heart hammers so loud I wonder if he can hear it. My palms grow clammy. The cool facade I’ve spent two years perfecting begins to crack.
“Pretty good,” I manage to breathe out, relieved when my voice doesn’t squeak.
“It’s been a minute,” Connor comments.
“Yeah.” I nod. For the past two years, I’ve only ever seen Connor at events like this, for Maddie, or for Eli. But we’ve rarely spoken and we definitely were never in a room alone together. My awareness at his proximity spikes and I offer a small smile, genuinely happy to see him.
My phone beeps in my purse. I offer a sheepish grin as I pull it out. This time, I’m sure it’s Bryce. The second my hand connects with my cell, it’s like the unleashing of a tsunami. The beeping is incessant, chimes going off as all of my apps pour out a barrage of information.
The image that pops up on my screen chills my blood to ice.
A photo of Bryce, shirtless, his abs rippling, sweats low on his hips, pressing his mouth against a raven-haired beauty with a thigh gap glares at me.
The headline: Hollywood’s Golden Boy Caught Red-Handed
What the hell?
My chest constricts, caving in on itself, until inhaling is a struggle.
I falter, confusion and hurt and a keen sense of betrayal exploding in my veins like landmines. My temples pulse, my heartbeat echoing in my eardrums. Shivers crawl up my arms, but the back of my neck blazes with heat. I feel sick, my stomach churning dangerously as I try to process my life falling apart on social media. Choking on the intensity of my emotions, I shake my head in disbelief, staring at my trembling fingers as I scroll through the other photos.
There are so damn many of them. Of Bryce and this woman touching, embracing, kissing.
But worse than that is the familiar intimacy between them. This isn’t a one-time thing but something with real emotions and feelings and… truth.
My stomach twists painfully as a neon sign blinks in my mind: Bryce is cheating on me.
Not good. Not good. Not good.
“Low? You okay?” Connor’s fingertips land on the small of my back.
I flinch even as I lean into his touch.
He moves closer. His cologne rolls off of him, heady and intense and familiar.
Nausea rolls in my stomach as a snowball of unshed tears burns my throat. How could Bryce do this to me?
I stagger back a half-step, my shoulder blades hitting the wall of muscle behind me.
Connor inhales sharply as I melt into him, letting his str
ength absorb my shock.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, Harlow,” he murmurs, his breath skating over the shell of my ear, as he peers over my shoulder at the images on my phone.
My head pounds, my body shakes. Standing in Zoe and Eli’s kitchen, the life I had been crafting so carefully collapses like a house of cards. With Connor at my back, I feel exposed. I couldn’t be more embarrassed and wish I had learned of Bryce’s infidelity in my own kitchen.
The thought confuses me and kicks up the shame stirring in my stomach. Fight-or-flight seizes me and I drop the phone into my purse, pulling it straight off the counter.
“Harlow?” Connor spins me around, his hands gripping my shoulders.
Keeping my gaze averted, I shake my head. “I need, I just, excuse me, please.” I step around him and escape to the bathroom.
As soon as the door is locked behind me, the tears come. Humiliation streaks down my cheeks as I lean over the sink, my stomach clenching, my hands shaking.
How could he do this to me? How could he hurt me likes this? How could he get caught? Why does Connor have to witness me fall apart?
Why am I not enough?
The tears fall faster, harder. I bite my lip to hold in a sob.
I flip on the faucet, slide my hands into the rushing water, and close my eyes. Unsure if I’m more upset over Bryce’s deceit or Connor seeing it unfold, I hang my head and wash my face, ruining the make-up I had painstakingly applied an hour ago.
The doorbell rings, and voices fill up the house with chatter.
I regulate my breathing, staring at myself in the reflection of the mirror and hating the insecurity pouring from my eyes.
