Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
His expression was the same as it’d been before. He gave me nothing.
“I—I just didn’t think I was going to see you after we met in the bar. I assumed it would be a onetime thing, so I made something up so I wouldn’t have to talk about it. But now . . . I don’t know. I feel like you should know.” He might judge me. Think less of me. Assume he was a rebound and not want to see me anymore. Whatever his reaction might be, it wouldn’t be good. It wasn’t exactly sexy to be with a woman who just got dumped.
After a long stretch of silence, he spoke. “I already knew.”
“You—you did?”
“I always know when someone’s lying.”
It almost felt like a threat. It made me swallow hard and made me feel really fucking stupid.
“I don’t tolerate liars and cheats. But you’re right. Neither of us knew we’d be sitting here right now. I was a stranger to you at the time. I can tell you’re carrying some stuff right now, and the last thing you wanted to do was drop your baggage on someone you don’t know.” He gave a slight nod. “So, don’t worry about it.”
I felt pardoned and executed at the same time. I wasn’t sure how to follow that. “So . . . the beach invitation still stands?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” He grabbed his fork again, sliced it into the tender fillet, and took a bite. He’d already eaten half of his plate, because he always seemed to inhale his food when he ate. When we’d split that sandwich, one of his bites was the equivalent to five of mine.
“I don’t know. Doesn’t make me look very good.”
“How so?”
“Well, I just got out of a relationship a couple days before I met you . . . and I jumped into bed with you pretty quickly.” Instantly—and bareback.
“I’m not the judgmental type.”
“You just said you don’t tolerate liars and cheats.”
“I don’t,” he said simply. “But you don’t fall into those categories.” He finished his fish, his elbows moving to the table with his hands together. “The relationship ended, and you’re free to do what you wish—or whom you wish.” A subtle, handsome smile moved on to his lips. “Unless there’s a chance you’ll get back together—”
“No.” Every bone in my body wanted to scream. If Enzo came back to me because he realized his affair was just a mistake and begged for another chance, it would give me no pleasure, not when I never wanted to see him again in any capacity—not even for that succulent revenge. “He’s dead to me.”
He gave a slight nod like he understood, when there was no way he’d understand at all. A man who looked like that had never been replaced by someone else. Had never been betrayed by a woman. Any woman who had the pleasure of his company held on until her knuckles snapped. “A liar and a cheat.”
An astute guess. “That wasn’t even the worst part.”
He didn’t ask for further detail, but his magnetic stare from across the table had the strength to pull it out of me.
I hadn’t told anyone what had happened. I wasn’t sure if Enzo had told his friends yet. So it was all crammed deep inside my chest, and the bars that kept it in place were growing weaker by the day. My friends would be supportive, but they would have that look in their eyes—I told you so. Constantine was a stranger in a bar who had quickly turned into my lover and my friend and . . . the perfect medicine for my misery. “I was the photographer for one of his work retreats. It moved really quickly, we moved in together in just a few months, and it just felt right. He told his friends he wanted to marry me. I found the family I’d been missing. But about six months ago, I noticed it.”
He continued to listen.
“Noticed him fall out of love with me. A slow, painful death, just like my mother’s. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to fix it. I tried to talk to him, tried to plan special things for us, but the harder I tried, the more indifferent he became. I felt myself wither away as the defeat continued to suck me dry. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I started to snoop through his phone and try to figure out if there was someone else.”
“Don’t be ashamed. That’s on him, not you.”
“I violated his privacy.”
“A man in a committed relationship doesn’t need privacy.” He spoke in his normal voice, all the tables on the patio filled with other guests, but his tone was so sharp it nearly cut me. “A man should make his woman feel secure. If he didn’t, that’s on him. You should never have to wonder, and if you do, then the relationship is done. Instead of being a man and telling you the truth, he forced you to do things you didn’t want to do. He made you someone you didn’t want to be, a woman who goes through his phone when he’s in the shower, analyzes every word he says, searching for the truth between the lies, desperate for attention and validation. And the more he refuses to give it to you, the harder you work for it. He held the power over you—and he fucking knew it.”