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“I cheated once, Tali, because I had too much to drink. I let the fame go to my head. I can admit that. But this guy...it’s what he’s known for. And maybe I didn’t catch him at anything, but have you seen how many women’s homes he enters over the course of a day? You really think he’s not fucking someone in one of them?”

I’d probably have said the same, last winter. Now I know better. “I’ve never seen him be anything but unfailingly honest and level with every single person he encounters, myself included,” I reply. My arms fold across my chest. “And what you don’t seem to get is that I didn’t end things with you because you cheated. I ended them because you never fucking believed in me. You told me I wouldn’t have gotten the book deal without you, remember? And the minute I started to struggle, you told me to give up. I would never have done that to you.”

He hangs his head, ashamed of himself. Or perhaps merely pretending to be. He’s an actor, after all—I imagine he’s relatively good at faking emotion by now. “You’re right, okay? I shouldn’t have said it. But you know what? If you’d ever told me to give up, I wouldn’t have dumped you over it. I’d have argued. The real problem is you don’t believe in yourself, and you were scared I was right.”

My stomach sinks as the words hit home. I’ve spent a full year thinking I need to prove him wrong about me without ever asking why I cared what he thought in the first place. Maybe it was never his mind I was trying to change.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he says softly. “I miss you.”

“I don’t miss you,” I reply. I’m not even saying it to hurt him. It’s simply the truth. I missed the idea of Matt and the security of having someone, but I’m not sure I ever actually missed him. And I’m certainly not missing him now. This conversation is just making me ashamed I stayed with him as long as I did.

He laughs, incredulous. The arrogance that seemed to take hold in New York has clearly flourished here. “I don’t believe you. What could this guy have that I don’t?” he demands.

“Brains,” I reply. “And morals.” Height and a big dick, too, but I manage to keep those to myself.

His response is cut off by the man himself, who flies into the driveway, stopping beside us with a screech of brakes and a haze of dust.

He jumps from his car and moves toward Matt at a pace that would scare almost anyone.

“This doesn’t concern you, asshole,” says Matt.

I hear more than a little false bravado there. On screen, Matt looks every inch the superhero. In real life he’s five ten, a hundred and sixty pounds, and Hayes looks like he could break him in half, one-handed.

“You come onto my property to ambush her and want to tell me it doesn’t fucking concern me?” asks Hayes. “Think again.”

Matt’s mouth twists. “Oh, so you’re the big hero now? I know exactly what you are, and on your best day, you’re still not good enough for her.”

“I’m well aware I’m not good enough for her,” Hayes growls, pushing Matt against the Ferrari, “but this stops now. If I ever hear of you approaching her like this, in public or in private, I will fucking ruin your life, and don’t think for a minute I can’t.”

Matt feigns boredom, even though he’s very clearly outmanned. “Tali, call off your watch dog.”

Someone once told me hatred isn’t the opposite of love...apathy is. I get that now. Because I don’t want revenge or anything else. I just want him to leave.

“Please go,” I reply. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

“Are you serious?” Matt asks. “You think this guy is a better option? He’ll have dumped you in a week.”

Before I can reply, Hayes’s fist flies into Matt’s face.

I’m as stunned by it as Matt clearly is, wide-eyed, blood pouring from his nose. I’d have thought Hayes more the type to wound with a few cutting words, or a well-timed lawsuit.

Matt pulls his T-shirt up, trying to staunch the flow of blood. “If my nose is broken, the studio will take you for everything you’re worth.”

Hayes releases him with a shove. “You’re on my property, asshole. Good luck explaining how you’re the victim.”

“Tali—” Matt says, still certain I will intervene on his behalf, as if all my love for him still rests inside me, and will now come blazing forth in his defense.

I shake my head. “You’d better go before he hits you again. Or I do.”

“You’re making a mistake,” he says, climbing into his car.

It’s a relief to realize as he drives away that I just don’t care.

Hayes turns and takes a step toward me before coming to an awkward halt.

“How did you possibly get here so fast?” I ask.

“Some traffic laws were broken,” he says. “But I was worried about what he’d do. Plus, you hung up on me which was, by the way, a fire-able offense, but I’ll let it go this once.”