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Wait a minute. Why should I care if he’s talking to some girl? I have no claim on this man, and it’s not like I’m putting out. He’s bound to get some nut elsewhere.
And yet.
Betty watches me look over the slip of paper, but quickly turns away when she sees the expression on my face. She’s embarrassed for me.
I’m embarrassed for myself.
And I have no idea why.
My arms and legs feel heavy, and I’m tempted to go back to bed. This is how I felt in the days immediately following my botched wedding.
I know what it is.
Sadness.
I guess that even though Rake and I went through a fake wedding and are now living a fake existence with our fake marriage, I somehow expected to feel at leastkind ofmarried. Like we’re both enjoying the con.
But he’s got someone else, it seems. And there’s really nothing I can say or do about it. We never discussed seeing people outside our relationship, such as it is. It never occurred to me.
And now it’s probably too late.
Oh, why do I feel this way? It makes no sense.
The reality of what I’ve done sinks in, and I have no one to blame but myself. My bottom lip quivers and my throat tightens. Betty pretends not to see, bless her.
I stuff the slip of paper into my pocket and walk to the window to look at the cars crossing the Bay Bridge.
I will not cry. I will not get emotional.
This man means nothing to me.
I certainly don’t mean anything to him.
20
RAKE
I haven’t hadballs this blue since I was a skinny sixteen-year-old trying to figure out how to get laid.
And it fucking sucks.
Sure, I could go get off with some other chick. There’s certainly no shortage of women dying take off their panties to spend time with a high-profile athlete.
That might be a shitty thing to say, but it’s true. Ask any of my teammates. Even the married ones have to fend off the women looking to hook up with a walking wallet.
That’s what I call us guys who have money.
And there was a time not very long ago when I would have taken one of these women up on their offer to relieve my aching balls. But, for some reason, the thought of that just isn’t holding the appeal it once did.
I blame it all on Petal. Petal Parker.
The ballbuster I never saw coming.
There’s no way to prepare yourself for a woman like her. She just appears on the scene one day, and you’re fucking smitten, and it’s hard to think of anything else.
It’s also hard to prepare for the fact that she couldn’t give a shit if I lived or died. I’m not used to that.
It’s humbling.
