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“My parents died, Rayne. That house was all I had aside from my drug-addict brother. How could you throw that in my face?”
Was she kidding? She just attacked every insecurity I had and categorized the greatest relationship of my life as a lucky-and-lusty-gold-digging-fuck-fest-at-sea. I was speechless.
Her gaze dropped from my face to my feet. “You look like a mannequin for Seraphina’s clothing line.”
Now she was criticizing my appearance? What the fucking fuck?
I had the bizarre urge to do something completely inappropriate like rip out her hair extensions. But I was better than that. I would not drop to her petty level.
My finger pointed to the door and I hissed, “Why are you with him?”
“He makes me happy!”
“How? How does he make you happy?”
“You don’t know him!”
“I don’t know you!”
The door opened and I gasped when the wood touched my back. For a split second, I recalled we were in a public place. Then Hale poked his head into the lady’s room, his expression displeased.
“Your voices are carrying and the manager is about to get involved.” He looked at me, his annoyance morphing into concern. “Rayne?”
Adrenaline had my insides quaking. Hale saw how badly I was shaking and reached out, but I evaded him. If he touched me, I’d shatter.
I looked back at Elle, not recognizing her as the safe person she’d always been. She was dangerous. A stranger. I might never understand what made her think so cruelly of me, but I couldn’t lose one more piece of myself trying to bring her back.
It became a choice of her or me, and I knew I needed to save myself.
“Fuck this.” I yanked open the door and stormed out.
On the way past the table, I snatched my purse from the booth without saying a word to Paul. No point in pretending we liked each other. I was probably one of the unhealthy things he convinced Elle to cut out of her life.
I waited at the car door for my rage to simmer. Hale must have stayed back to pay the bill, but he was out a moment later and the car unlocked.
I clambered into the front seat and crossed my arms—way past sulking and onto seething. Hale slid behind the wheel with perfect grace. He didn’t ask if I was okay, because he knew I wasn’t.
Once we pulled onto the road, my breath started to shake. The lump in my throat grew until it choked me. I blinked, unable to see past my rage-induced tears.
Hale held out his hand, palm open between us, and waited for me to lace my fingers in his. Only when his fist squeezed protectively around mine did he say, “I’m sorry she said those things to you.”
A tear fell down my cheek. I had to mentally command my body to physically unclench. I had never been this angry before. I didn’t know what to do with all of these sharp, heavy emotions. But the moment I felt his love radiate up my arm in that tight squeeze that said I’ve got space for you and everything you’re feeling right now, the dam holding back my sadness collapsed and a guttural sob ripped out of me like a wounded animal cry.
There was no hiding my sorrow. My friendship with Elle would never be the same again. Whatever it would become of it, I couldn’t predict. But whatever it had been was over.
He pulled the car onto the shoulder and collected me in his arms, hugging me tight as I cried.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
But no one was more sorry than me.
Virginal Behavior
CAN EAT A DICK
My life was in flux. When I was in New York, my heart was in Florida with Hale. When I was in Florida, Hale was in Tokyo or Hong Kong or California or New Jersey. Seriously, the man got around. And when Hale and I happened to be in the same state at the same time, his mind was on work and my mind was on Elle.
Elle.
