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Then the clip showed some snapshots of some really mean social media posts.
Like, really really mean ones.
“Poor Jillian is getting dumped on, too,” Marco said before they displayed some of the comments on her blog stuff.
Oh, crap.
Jillian relied on her influencer status to bring in money.
She worked hella-hard at creating content and building her brand.
And now—because she’d taken pity on me—her audience was leaving horrible messages on her posts.
They were telling her if she supported me, they would unfollow her and stop buying.
Oh, crap.
I hadn’t thought about what kind of impact I’d have on her business. I never should have gone over to her place.
“We asked around, and nobody we spoke with has seen any hint of Trey doing anything but party.” Marco swung his arm around to the large screen behind him.
It showed Trey out at a bar with his teammates. He was wearing the white button-up shirt he had on when he’d asked me to babysit the puppy.
Two nights ago.
It showed him pounding back the shots with his buddies.
It showed him surrounded by gorgeous, young women. Some of them hanging onto him every chance they got.
It showed Trey out on the dance floor with those women.
They were rubbing themselves on him like they were in heat.
Or very itchy.
And he was their scratching post.
It shouldn’t bother me.
We were getting divorced.
I’d filed, after all.
His business was his business.
Not mine.
Not anymore.
Unfortunately, my heart and my head hadn’t received this memo, yet.
And, I wanted to rip the head off of each and every puck bunny who I was watching touch my husband.
Sheesh.
It hurt.
I felt that burn behind my eyes, but I would not give into it.
