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“You think I did something to marry him?” I scoffed, slightly panicking. Trevor had seen us together when I worked for Aiden; he had to have witnessed the lack of fireworks between us.
The jerk nodded in that way that said how much of an idiot he genuinely thought I was. “Are you pregnant?”
The “no” was so sharp and ready on my tongue that I almost didn’t catch it. It just about slipped from my lips from how pissed off I was at his ridiculous fucking assumption. What did he think I was?
A tramp. He thought I was a gold-digging tramp.
Of course that’s what he thought. Why wouldn’t he? I couldn’t imagine how many times Aiden must have made it clear how little he cared about my existence in the time we worked together.
The point was, I was still insulted. And I didn’t owe him shit, even if I wasn’t pregnant.
Biting down hard on my molars, I flashed him a crazy-person smile. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters!” he barked, pointing at me as his ears turned red. I’d swear on my life there should have been steam coming out of them to perfect the moment. “He told me you two don’t have a prenup.” He literally gasped in outrage. “That was the second thing I told him he needed to have when I signed him. Wear a condom and sign a prenup—”
I raised an eyebrow at him, just letting him vent by that point.
“—and of all the women in the world—of all the women in the world—he marries you. In Vegas. In secret, and he doesn’t tell me. I’m trying to do what’s best for him.”
There’s really only so much you can take from someone who’s speaking so fast, whose voice turns so shrill, it reminds you of a chalkboard. “Then do what’s best for him. I’m not going anywhere, and you don’t need to understand what there is between us. You aren’t the only one who wants him to do well. So how about you worry about the things that really matter, like where he’s going to play next year, if you really want to stress about something your little peanut brain can’t understand.”
Trevor stared at me for a second, his throat expanding, nostrils flaring. “Peanut brain?”
“I’m done talking to you. I’ll definitely make sure to tell both of them you were here. Bye.” Just like that, I calmly shut the heavy door in the middle of him speaking. I hadn’t even slammed it. How was that for being a badass?
It took a second for me to realize just how draining that conversation had been. Sheesh. I honestly felt a little sick as I climbed the stairs back to my room.
I’d really never done anything to him. Not a single freaking thing besides be a smart-ass when he deserved it. Good grief.
Just as I was walking back to my bedroom, Zac’s door swung open and his face peeked at me from the crack, all big eyes, nose, and mouth. “I’m sorry.”
I waved him off. “You owe me. Get dressed so we can go on a run.”
He wrinkled his nose. “You want to go out to eat instead?”
“No.” I smiled at him brightly. “Get dressed and let’s go. You need to get out of the house, darlin’.”
“Van,” he nearly whined as I disappeared into my room and closed the door behind me.
Before doing anything else, I picked up my phone and sent Aiden a quick message.
Me: The Angel of Shit paid a visit. Just warning you.
I’d taken off my clothes when my phone beeped with a message.
Aiden: Trevor?
Me: Yes If he shows up again, you might have to bail me out of jail, was the last thing we messaged each other before I left.
The following afternoon, I heard the footsteps bounding up the steps before Zac burst into my room, his socks skidding across the floor. “Trevor’s here,” he hissed with raised, expectant eyebrows.
“Did you let him in?”
He shot me a look. “No, I don’t want to see him. I heard someone park and checked the window. I told Aiden he was here before I came up.”
“Huh.” Thank God for small miracles. It was a Tuesday, which meant Aiden had the day off since he’d just played a game in San Francisco. I narrowed my eyes at him and he squinted his right back before I raised a shoulder and cocked my head to the side. “So are we eavesdropping or what?”
“Duh.” The man who hadn’t smiled enough in recent days finally graced me with one. During our seven-mile jog yesterday, he’d frowned and pouted throughout the entire thing, probably cussing me out in his head. So I was glad we were back to being on speaking terms.
The sound of the front door opening and closing had me inching toward the doorway of my room. I’d stayed up the night before worrying about whether Trevor would dare come up the stairs to find that, while I was technically married to Aiden, we weren’t exactly married-married. Obviously, it was a big flaw in our charade. It had only been the knowledge that Leslie was a gentleman and would never snoop or wander around upstairs that had worked in our favor. Otherwise, that would have been an awkward explanation.
Then I realized how dumb of a worry Trevor coming to the second floor was. Of course he wouldn’t. Aiden wouldn’t let him get anywhere near the stairs to begin with.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious as hell about what they were going to talk about.
And that was the excuse I was sticking to as Zac and I crept out of my room, and then crawled toward the top landing of the stairs, plopping on our butts, one ear aimed toward the stairs. I’d bet my savings account that Aiden wouldn’t invite Trevor into his sanctuary—the kitchen and nook. I wasn’t at all disappointed when their voices ended up in the living room, where I could hear their conversation almost clearly. I didn’t bother reliving the last time I’d eavesdropped from this exact spot.
