Page 311 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Pam, of course, said nothing. Come to think of it, she hadn’t said anything the whole time. Just a lot of smiles and nods. She’d also implied knowledge of me that she didn’t really have. We hadn’t shared breakfast. We hadn’t shared anything more than a dance, a fuck, and some text messages.

But all of that was way too complicated to drag into a meeting like this, so instead, I went with it. “Sure. I like waffles.”

Brunch passed quickly enough, filled mostly by the sounds of us eating and polite small talk. Brent had asked a couple of seemingly probing personal questions, but I’d managed to avoid most of them.

I glanced to my watch as we stood up to leave and realized we’d run over by nearly half an hour. I guessed it was good Harlow waited two and a half hours.

The three of us moved as a group toward the door, but I picked up speed when I spotted Harlow lurking just inside the entrance. I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, didn’t consider anything; I just went.

Straight to her and into a hug.

The sweet smell of strawberry jam radiated from her damp head. It’s got to be her shampoo.

The mayor cleared his throat behind us. I pulled back, keeping my arm around Harlow, and looking back to see his smile. There was something in it I didn’t like.

Pam looked jealous. And I didn’t like that either.

“Brent…” I paused, not knowing if Harlow knew he was the mayor or not—we hadn’t discussed politics. “Uh, Mayor, this is Harlow Paige, my…” I struggled for the appropriate word to use, but finally settled on, “friend.” It sounded all sorts of wrong.

Brent’s eyes, however, danced at its use.

Mine narrowed before glancing to Harlow. She looked almost panicked, recognition stark in her voice. “Brent?”

“Nice to see you, Harlow,” he said with way too much fucking familiarity. So much, it bordered on intimacy. Stepping right in front of me, he leaned down and touched his lips to her cheek, right at the corner of her mouth.

Fucking on her mouth, for shit’s sake.

I’d only waited inside of the restaurant for Scott for a minute or two before he found me and enveloped me in a tight, warm hug. All had appeared normal until he’d released me and I realized that his lunch company stood behind him.

The instant my gaze met all too familiar eyes, my heart dropped into my stomach like a rock.

Brent is here?

And who in the hell is this woman standing beside Brent?

With stiff posture and narrowed eyes aimed directly at me, she was the hunter, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I was her prey. I honestly had no idea why I was on the receiving end of her ire, but I didn’t have the brain capacity to figure it out. The oil was hot and ready, and I had a whole bucket of other fish to fry. Scott had obviously had lunch with Brent—my ex, Brent. The fucking mayor, Brent.

Jesus Christ. What is happening? What business does a goddamn reality show doctor have wining and dining the mayor of New York City?

Shocked and nearly at a loss for words, his name shot off my tongue before I could stop it. “Brent?”

Always a fucking smarmy bastard, Brent flashed his notorious smile directly at me like we didn’t have a ten-ton pile of shitty past between us. It was the smile that had fooled everyone into believing he was a man of character and morals. The smile that had led his political career toward success. That stupid politician’s smile that had gotten him elected mayor of one of the greatest cities in the world.

“Nice to see you, Harlow,” he said. His words oozed friendly cheer, but I knew his soul, and it was too fucking black for real pleasantries. Past lover or not, he was no friend of mine.

I watched as Brent leaned in and in, coming toward me like an out-of-control car. I used every mental voodoo trick I knew to pump the fucking brakes, but even that failed. Twisted wreckage and the hollow sound of a rolling rim were the only things I could hear as he pressed his lips to my skin at the intimate place where my lips met my cheek.

Hell, he might as well have just stuck his tongue down my throat.

I wondered immediately what he was trying to prove. Or screw up. Brent didn’t know how to make an uncalculated move.

In case you haven’t been paying attention, Brent was the ex. The one who made me realize long-term commitments were not for me.

He had a long-standing record of fucking up my life—our relationship was proof of that. He had started out as my college boyfriend, the man I’d once considered sweet and kind, the man I’d counted on, the man I’d loved, and he had turned into someone who wanted control over me, over every aspect of my life, over everything.

Somewhere along the line, when I was busy trying to make something of myself, secure a future worth something, he had changed from someone I’d admired to someone I despised. Still despise, actually.

The instant Brent’s lips left my skin, nausea burrowed itself inside my stomach and shot up my esophagus like a fucking rocket. It took all of my mental strength to fight the urge to vomit onto everyone’s shoes and across the floor of Jane.