Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Unfuckingbelievable,” I muttered to myself as I watched Lauren walk off with another fucking man.
It was supposed to be my hand on the small of her back. She was supposed to be mine.
And while I’d spent the last few weeks pining over her and plotting how to win her back, she’d moved on. She’d been able to ignore my calls and act like what we had meant nothing.
It sure as fuck didn’t mean nothing to me.
Toby was in town for the weekend, and I knew he was out wining and dining some clients. I decided to stop by the restaurant and join them for the party. They were already drinking, and I quickly caught up, downing several drinks in quick succession. Still—nothing numbed the pain.
After dinner, we headed to a club. While our clients were tearing up the dance floor, Toby and I sat alone at the bar. I downed another shot, eager to drown the pain. But I knew no amount of liquor would dull this ache.
“I don’t remember you being such a sad sack when you lived in New York,” Toby said. “No offense, man.”
I stared at the bar, puffing out a breath. “I’m not a sad sack.”
“You sure about that?” he asked. “Because you’re ignoring all the hot women who are eye-fucking you, only to stare at the bar instead.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Stop being such a pussy. Women—” he gestured wide to encompass much of the club with his drunken movement “—are replaceable. They’re all the same. And they all want you.”
They want me for the wrong reasons, I thought. But not Lauren.
“You’re such a lucky son of a bitch, and you don’t even see it.” His voice grated on my nerves.
I stared into the glass and scoffed. “Lucky?”
“Yeah. You’re richer than god, young, successful, good-looking. You could have any woman in the room. Any woman you want.”
“Toby, are you hitting on me?” I teased.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to get you to realize you don’t need this chick. Besides, with your father running for president, you’re going to be turning down pussy left and right.”
His attitude disgusted me. Actually, it sounded a lot like the old me. The me before Sam had robbed me of my cuff links and Lauren had stolen my heart.
I used to be an insufferable asshole.
“You don’t get it,” I said. “I don’t want that. I’d trade all of it—fame, fortune, endless pussy—to be with Lauren.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “Don’t listen to me. But, shit, stop moping and do something about it. Surely with all the wealth at your fingertips, you can make that happen. I mean, do something grand and completely over the top. Chicks dig that shit.”
I eyed him skeptically. “And you would know this because…?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He waved a hand through the air. “The point is—stop whining and start doing. Don’t you always say you’re a man of action?”
“Yeah, but…” I sighed, not entirely sure how to say it. “She’s not like that. And I…” I swallowed, thinking back on today at the hospital. How angry she was. How adamant she was that it was time to move on. “I fucked up, and no amount of groveling will fix it. She’s moved on.”
He tilted his head back, taking a sip of his drink. “Then maybe it’s time you did too.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to move on. If Lauren hadn’t answered my calls or texts in weeks, if she refused to talk to me and was with another man, who was I to stand in her way? All I wanted was for her to be happy. And if that wasn’t with me—well, it might kill me. But her happiness was all that mattered.
I didn’t deserve her—I never had. And maybe this new guy—whoever the fuck he was—might prove himself worthy of her. Maybe he would cherish her and love her. Would give her everything I couldn’t.
A woman took the seat next to me, and if I’d believed in signs, I would think this was one. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it.
“Want some company?” she asked.
