Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Chill, girl. Fucking chill . . .
Constantine made his way back to the table, and when he took a seat, he made the check gesture to the waiter. He opened his wallet and pulled out a hundred-euro bill and left it on the table—probably as a tip. Whenever we went anywhere, he tipped like crazy, even in a culture where people didn’t tip.
When the waiter brought the bill, Constantine stuffed several bills inside, leaving the hundred on the table. Then he looked at me—and he knew.
I forced a smile, and it took all my strength to pretend like everything was fine.
It must have been a pretty bad smile, because he cocked an eyebrow. “You look mad as hell.”
Was I red in the face? “No, I’m just hungry.”
He continued to stare at me like he didn’t believe a word I said. “Sweetheart, what happened in the two minutes I was gone? Someone say something to you?”
“No, nothing is wrong—”
“Don’t lie to me.” His tone turned callous in a heartbeat. “I don’t lie to you. Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Now let’s go.”
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Because I don’t.”
“So you’re just gonna be pissed off for the rest of the night?” he asked incredulously. “You’re obviously angry at me. Otherwise, you would just tell me. So give it to me straight.” His elbows moved to the table, and he leaned closer to me, his hands coming together.
I was about to ruin this, but I was so insanely jealous I couldn’t think straight. “You got a text.”
“A text?” He said it like he couldn’t believe something that popped up on his phone prompted all this. He tapped his finger on the screen, and right at the top was Lila’s text . . . with the eggplant emojis. “Ah, I understand now.”
“What’s with all the emojis?” I shouldn’t ask, but the words were out of my mouth before I could restrain them.
He smirked slightly. “She’s got a dick-sucking fetish. And she’s pretty good at it.”
I really was going to be sick.
“She and I have had a long-term casual hookup, booty-call type of situationship.”
“Oh.” I wanted to grab his phone and chuck it over the edge.
He studied my face. “Sweetheart, don’t ask questions if you don’t want the answers.” He opened the message box and turned it around so I could read their conversation.
I didn’t look at it, eyes still on him. “You don’t need to show me.”
“I have nothing to hide.” He tapped his fingers on the table to get me to look down. “I told her about you when we met in Taormina. She texted me and asked to hook up, and I told her I was seeing someone.”
I still wouldn’t look at the screen, too embarrassed.
“Sweetheart, look.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not going to violate your privacy.”
“The only people who ask for privacy are people who have shit to hide. I love the opportunity to clarify and explain, because I live an honorable life. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you. My passcode is 2425. You’re welcome to go through my phone whenever the fuck you feel like it. It doesn’t bother me.”
“But doesn’t that imply I don’t trust you?”
“If you don’t trust me or you feel insecure, then that’s entirely on me. If you feel that way, then I fucked up. Don’t ever let anyone make that argument to you, because that’s just fucking gaslighting. The second you suspect them of foul play, they make you feel like the asshole for suspecting them—when they are the ones lying and sneaking. The second you ask to see their phone and they say you’re a shit person for needing to look, then they have something to hide. Because any honest person would jump at the opportunity to show you how honest, loyal, and committed they are.”
“You talk like . . . you’ve been cheated on.”
“I haven’t been cheated on,” he said calmly. “But my ex-brother-in-law pulled all the tricks on my sister, and she didn’t listen to me. Now she’s a single mom, and he’s doing god knows what.” He set the phone in front of me, then relaxed in his chair. “I fucking hate cheaters and liars. They destroy lives.”
I looked down at the phone again and then scrolled back. He did text her a month ago. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a woman now.
Yeah? Tell me about her.
He never texted back.
Then she texted him again just now, out of the blue.
I returned the phone to the center of the table so he could take it.
“I think she texted today because she assumed it had fizzled out by now.” He grabbed the phone and typed a message and sent it before he put the phone back in front of me. It’s gotten serious, and I’m fucking crazy about her. Don’t text me again.