He hummed under his breath. “Then you better stay clear of her. Unless?—”
He stopped, looking at me now.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.
“No,” he said.
“Stop.”
“You don’t need to stay clear of her.”
“Marcus.”
“You already had her.”
I leaned forward, voice low. “I need you to shut the fuck up for five seconds.”
He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “You’re disgusting.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Fucking a girl half your age?” His voice dropped. “And your friend’s daughter, no less.”
“I did not know she was Dillon’s!”
“Still.”
I dragged a hand down my face, the headache pressing harder now. “Marcus. Please. I feel sick enough as is.”
Marcus didn’t say anything at first.
He just sat there beside me, elbows on the table, watching me like he was working through something in his head.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said after a while.
I leaned back in my chair, dragging a slow breath through my nose. “It’s already done.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“It is for me.”
He turned his head slightly, studying me. “You believe that?”
“I don’t repeat mistakes.”
“Right. So what now? You’re done and she’s just gone forever? You don’t see her again, don’t talk to her, don’t acknowledge anything?”
All these fucking questions.
“That’s the plan.”
He let out a quiet breath. “You really think she’s the type to just fall back? ‘Cause I’m telling you she isn’t.”
I didn’t answer because in my short encounter with her told me that. I picked up my coffee, but didn’t drink it this time.
“It doesn’t matter what type she is. I’m not entertaining it.”
“You sure?” Marcus watched me, unimpressed. “You entertained it before.”
