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“You already got what you had coming,” I told him. “Her name’s Chastity.”
He looked like shit. I mean complete, utter shit. Garrett’s once pretty eyes were sunken, and he had three or four days of growth going on with his beard. And not the sexy stubble of my three gorgeous boyfriends, either.
Half of me was secretly happy he was doing so poorly without me. The other half just felt bad for him.
“Chastity was a mistake,” Garret said.
“Oh?” I replied, injecting as much bitchiness into the word as possible. “What happened with her? Did she go through all my makeup and move on?”
“Claudia, I—”
“What about Debbie, was she a mistake too? And Melissa? How about—”
“All of them,” he said. “All of them but you.”
I glanced down. Sometime during the conversation he’d placed his hands delicately over mine. There was a time I would’ve thought the sentiment adorable. Right now, it repulsed me.
“I’m not really sure what you’re thinking,” I snarled as I yanked my arms backward, “but we are never getting back together.”
His eyes changed. They grew harder and fiercer. A lot more narrow.
Now this is a look I’m used to.
“C’mon,” Garrett pleaded roughly. “You can’t possibly enjoy living in that half-finished rat trap you’ve been renovating.”
Nothing he could’ve said would’ve made me more angry.
“Rat trap?” I laughed. “Rat trap?”
“I don’t mean it like—”
“And how the hell do you know where I’ve been living?” I demanded. “Have you been following me this whole time or—” I stopped suddenly, looking down at my phone. “Oh yeah. Shared location.”
My ex-husband shrugged apologetically. He looked sad now. Even pathetic.
“Claudia, please think about moving back in. It can be like it was before, I promise. I’ll make it right again! Just… just give it a chance.”
In a brief moment of weakness I actually felt sorry for him.
“Garrett look,” I said placatingly. “I am never coming back. It’s over between us.” Then, after a slight pause: “I’ve even moved on.”
My last words struck him an almost physical blow. He sat back in his chair, unsure of what to do or say next. I seized the opportunity to rise to my feet.
“I wish you well, I really do,” I said. “But you need to move on also.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.
“Goodbye Garrett,” I said, gathering my bags. “And good luck.”
Hurrying back to my car, I prided myself on how well I’d handled the whole thing. Seeing my ex wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. It actually felt good, even therapeutic. I smiled as I slid the key into the ignition.
I had my boys to thank for that.
Twenty-Seven
HUNTER
She looked absolutely fucking stunning.
