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I sit forward in disgust. “You had sex with prostitutes?” I whisper.
“You would rather have me spend the night sweet-talking someone?” He gasps as if outraged. “It was a physical urge I had to scratch, so I took care of it in the most mechanical way that I knew how to.”
“So, you went to the strip club on four occasions, and…”
“Twice.”
I frown. “You did the four girls twice?”
He looks around. “Keep your fucking voice down,” he whispers. “I went to the strip club twice and had a threesome with two girls both times.”
My mouth falls open and I sit back. “Wow. Go you.”
I stare at him for a moment, and it’s official. I must be tapped. A normal woman would be outraged, but this information has me strangely mollified. He wasn’t intimate with anybody. It was just sex.
“I nearly called your therapist last week,” I admit.
“Why?”
“I just wanted to check if you were okay.” Shit, shut up, shut up.
He sits forward, as if excited. “You were worried about me as recently as last week?”
“That was before I found out you went to Ibiza with Robert.”
“On a platonic group holiday. Don’t make it sound like something it wasn’t, Eliza.”
“Hmm.” I sip my Diet Coke. “I don’t care what you do anyway.” I lie.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile as his eyes hold mine. “I know.”
He’s so onto me.
I sip my drink as I look around. This was a bad idea.
Our meals arrive, and we eat in silence for a while. He’s completely at ease, while I’m deep in regret about my little slip up about asking who he slept with. Why did I ask that? Now he knows I care.
“You know, my mother knows everything,” he says.
I frown as I chew. “What do you mean?”
“She knows that we fell in love, and she knows that we broke up.”
My mouth falls open. “But she?
?s never said anything. I must have seen her ten times, and I speak to her every second day.”
“Because she was afraid that if you knew she knew, things would be weird between you. She was scared that you were going to leave her, too.”
I put my hand over my heart. “That makes me so sad. I would never leave her.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Just me, then.”
“I was forced to leave you, Nathan, it was never by choice.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” He bites his lasagne off his fork. “We are just friends, after all.”
“Precisely.”
