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“Never,” he agreed.
I sighed. It was too ridiculous to keep up the pretense. “He’s just a friend. A good one. Demi called him my boyfriend because she’s a sweetheart and that’s what friends do when one of their girls is locked in a room with her ex.”
He was stroking my hair, kissing the top of my head. “You were messing with me,” he breathed.
“Are you surprised?” I asked him, nearly laughing. Didn’t he know how this fucked up little song and dance went?
“I shouldn’t be, that’s for sure.”
We lapsed into silence, him stroking my hair over and over and, likely because I was sated and sleepy, it soothed me. And I let it.
I don’t know why precisely it came to mind. Because I was feeling vulnerable, I suppose, and spiteful, as usual. Also, we hadn’t talked like we had for the last few days in so long, since before the breakup.
Tiffany was still after him, and I didn’t mind giving him another reason to hate her.
“That day,” I began, my voice small. “When that cop pulled me out of school.” I would not, could not describe it in more detail than that.
He’d gone stiff as a board, but he nodded that he knew which day I meant.
Of course he did.
“I saw her on the way out. Tiffany. I said something to her, because she was the only one I saw. She was supposed to tell you that I was leaving with him. Did she?”
I was only telling the truth and asking a simple question. Had I known it would do some damage?
Well, yes of course. That had been the point.
Had I known he would lose his mind?
No, I actually hadn’t.
But he did. He lost his ever-loving mind.
First he started to shake. Top to bottom, shake.
His trembling hands lifted me off him, he stood, and buck naked, strode from the room.
I didn’t follow him, but when I heard things starting to break, I didn’t have to wonder who was breaking them.
With a sigh I got dressed and went to investigate.
Ah, that made sense. He was in the guestroom Tiffany had been occupying but, lucky for her, she wasn’t occupying it now because as I stood there she approached.
She was holding an ice pack to her nose.
That made me smile.
Bastian was behind her, Leo behind him.
“What the hell is going on?” Leo’s voice boomed through the hallway.
I almost rolled my eyes. “What, did you get interrupted in the middle of screwing one of the maids?” I asked him in a taunting, baby soft voice, “Does that make you grumpy?”
I’d always had a problem with Leo, dating back to childhood when I’d first realized how he treated Dante. Any chance I got, I antagonized him.
Bastian stifled a laugh. I smiled at him.
“You,” Leo hissed. “You’ve been nothing but poison in this family since my mother dug you out of the trash.”
