Callum’s brow furrows in thought, and his next words have bile rising from my stomach.
“The apartment.Ourapartment.” He drags the wordourout, leaving its implication hanging heavily in the air.
I rub at my temple, the threat of a headache looming. Of course this was going to come up. Both our names are on the lease for the apartment.
“I’ll speak to the leasing company and get you removed from the paperwork,” I tell him.
He rears back, brows shooting up. “You can’t afford that place on your own. Come on, it’s time to stop, you’ve made your point.”
I stare at him, a list of expletives to call him on the tip of my tongue. He’s ignorant to the fact that I can afford it myself, thank you very much. It’s an example of how he doesn’t see my job as a ‘real’ profession that can pay the bills, like his does.
“That’s for me to figure out. And I don’t know what you mean by ‘made your point’. This isn’t a game, Callum. You and me are over.”
He flashes a charming smile to a couple I recognize as they pass, giving us quizzical looks, before bringing his attention back to me.
“Let’s talk over here.” His jaw hardens and he places a hand against my lower back with forced authority and leads me away from the main hotel entrance and around a corner into an alleyway.
I’m too busy glaring up at him as he marches us away to notice the uneven concrete on the ground.
My ankle twists and I fall hard, landing in a heap on the floor, my face taking the brunt of the impact.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
The concern in Callum’s voice is genuine as he helps me up. My cheek throbs and I lift my hand to it, wincing at the flash of heat in my skin.
“It’s not bleeding, but we should get you inside, look in the light,” he says.
I wave away his concern, moving out of his grip.
“I’m fine. Just say what it is you wanted.”
He places his hands on his hips, looking uncertain as he frowns at my throbbing cheek.
“Jude,” he starts, in a soft voice, one I used to love hearing say my name. He even looks handsome in his bow tie and dinner jacket.
But I know beneath the pretty exterior is a man who wouldn’t know the value of fidelity if it throat-punched him.
“We can get past this. You know we’re good together.”
I fight not to roll my eyes. Here we go again.
“Would you be saying that if my father worked in Wendy’s flipping burgers?”
“What?” Callum’s brow creases in confusion.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Look, I’d like to keep the apartment. I can sort the paperwork. You won’t need to do anything.”
“Ju—”
“We arenotgetting back together, Callum. Not even if you grovel for a decade.” His brows quirk, like he has an idea. “Or for a century,” I add.
“You’re sure?”
The pathetic slump of his shoulders almost makes me feel sorry for him.
“One hundred percent.”
He blows out a breath. “She’s nothing compared to you, you know that, right?”
