Sighing, I take my place at center stage and breathe in deeply before trying again.
“It’syouwho doesn’t love me, Timothy,” I say. “And I’m tired of pretending like things will ever be good between us, like I’ll ever be happy.”
But you’ve never mentioned anything about being unhappy before…
“You never asked.” I say. “You were always too fucking busy to notice.”
So, this is MY fault?
“No.” I glare at the invisible man. “Honestly, this ismyfault?—”
“That’s the most truthful thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Jameson’s voice comes from behind, catching me completely off guard and making me spin around.
What the… I can’t get a word to fall from my lips.
Despite his usual well-pressed black suit, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I resist the urge to step closer and ask why.
“What the hell are you doing here, Jameson?” I finally manage.
“To say thank you for sending me your necklace back.”
“A text message would’ve been more sufficient.” I step back. “But you’re welcome.”
“I also wanted to let you know that you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re a shining beacon of truth?”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything more than what I’ve told you,” he says. “In your case, though…If you told me the sun was yellow, I’d have to step outside and double-check.”
“Thank you for the additional insults.” I hate that tingles are running up and down my spine at the sight of him. “I’m busy rehearsing, so you can go back to working with your guilty ass clients.”
“Clients like your father?”
Silence.
“Tell me something, Scarlett,” he says, stepping close enough to touch me. “Answer it truthfully—for once—and I’ll leave you alone for good.”
“Fine.”
“So…” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips, looking deep into my eyes. “Given everything that’s happened, were you just using me to fuck the daddy issues out of you?”
WHAT?“I don’t have daddy issues.”
“Maybe not anymore.” His voice is terse. “Or, should I have fucked you a few more times for any lingering ones?”
I lift my hand and slap him across the face.
His eyes flash with fury and he steps back, but he doesn’t move to retaliate.
“I still want an answer for my question,” he says. “Are they out of you? Should I send you a bill for my services?”
“Get out before I call?—”
“The police?” He arches a brow. “Are you planning to snitch on yourself for trespassing?”
Knowing he was right, I cross my arms and try my best to ignore the tears pricking my eyes.
“Leave, Jameson,” I say. “You’ve made your point, and…”
