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"Years ago."
I jolted my head back. He's been hassling her ever since? What an asshole.
She dipped her head. "I've been working on getting myself back on track ever since. But I still haven’t healed completely.”
"Go easy on yourself. Your fiancé cheated on you with your best friend. There's a lot of trauma to deal with from that."
"Yeah. And it's not like I haven’t dated in the meantime."
That got my attention. So she did date.
Reese cleared her throat before continuing. "It was just all so shitty—what happened, I mean. It kind of took the fun out of dating."
I could work with that. Why did I suddenly want to prove to her how much fun I could be?
Chapter Eight
Dom
"How about you?" she asked.
"I haven't been on any dates since my divorce."
"Do you want to?"
I sat still for a few seconds, looking at her intently. "If the right person came along," I replied. "But the whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth."
"I can't blame you. Are you still in contact with her?"
"No. There was no point. I like to rip the Band-Aid off completely, so to speak."
"That's the best way—if you can do that, of course. Are you being hounded by reporters? Though, come to think of it, I only found one article where they proclaimed you’re the hottest bachelor in town."
"No, not at all. That article came out of nowhere. People know who I am, but I’m not a person of interest to the general public. I've always been extremely private, though apparently not as much as you Maxwells are."
Reese laughed. "Oh yeah. We do our best. Unfortunately, we found that if you open the door, even a little bit, you can't get rid of the press. My interview didn't help. It simply renewed interest. But we learn from our mistakes."
"Speaking to a reporter about what happened sounds awful. I could never do that."
"Did you talk to anyone?" Her voice was tentative.
"You mean a professional?"
"Yeah." She frowned. "I know it's a personal topic, so I can stop if you want me to."
"No, go ahead.”
"I think it helps to talk to someone you don't know, or at least who you don't know well. It can help you get perspective on things."
"I don't like the idea of talking to a stranger."
"If you want, you can practice by talking to me."
"Reese. I don't want to unload my drama on you. You've got enough going on." I’d swept it under the rug since it happened, focusing instead on Dad and Waldorf Fashion. Those two things were enough to occupy my life and fill my time. Whenever someone asked me what happened, I'd just placate them. I could do the same with Reese, but I didn't want to.
When she just stared at me, obviously waiting for me to share, I added, "I never imagined someone could marry me and not care one bit about me."
"I'm sure that's not true," she protested, then held up a hand. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Go on."
