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Alex reappeared a minute later, sweatshirt on, hood pulled over his head. “Better, Cool Girl? Am I up to your standards yet?”
I stayed focused on Simone, not giving him the reaction he wanted. “Thank you for coming last night. It sounded like I interrupted something fun.”
A mix between a sigh and groan puffed from his lips as he took a seat in Mo’s ugly-ass orange armchair, an exact replica of the one in Simone’s nursery, only this one didn’t have a glider on the bottom.
“Nah, the fun had already been had, so don’t you worry.” He tipped his head back, laying his wide palm over his eyes. “I could have used about ten more hours of sleep, though. Don’t know how Mo and Mic do it.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He cracked a space between his fingers to peer at me from behind them. “Currently? I’m sitting my ass in this ugly chair. With my life? Hell if I know.”
“Obviously I’m not asking what you’re doing with your life. I’m asking why you’re sitting here chatting with me like we’re pals. Don’t you have a random to get back to?”
He laughed without looking at me. “You think I left a girl sleeping in my bed?”
I danced Simone on my lap, watching Alex from the corner of my eye. “It would be awfully rude to kick a woman out at two in the morning.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I turned my head to look at him fully. He was looking right back at me, a pensive frown pulling his eyebrows together.
“You seem pretty damn concerned about some random, as you called her,” he said.
“Nope. Don’t mistake my curiosity for caring.”
He chuckled, dark and sardonic. “No worries there. I’m well aware your capacity for caring doesn’t extend past your very small circle of pre-approved beautiful people. Hopefully Simone can stay on the track she’s on so she doesn’t lose your affection by not looking just right or wearing the latest designer.”
My blood turned to ice, and I froze. Simone kept bouncing on my knees, thankfully oblivious. Alex’s eyes were on mine, wary and something more. Not hateful, though his words certainly were. There was definitely anger there, even though he had no right to it. Sure, I was a bitch to him, but he could dish it right back.
Bringing the love of my life into this? Fuck him. He could go straight to hell with his goofy smiles and freckles and purple socks and all his Murray-ness. Once upon a time, I’d been reeled in by it all. Now, I knew better.
“Leave,” I whispered.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Yael—”
“Please go.”
His palms covered his face, scrubbing away the grit, or maybe his guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just tir—”
“No.”
“I said I’m sorry. It was too far.”
“It was, and I want you to leave,” I said, all emotion sucked from my voice.
With a deep groan, he rose from the chair and stood over me. I refused to turn my face up to him and blew raspberries at Simone instead. She giggled and grabbed at my lips.
“I’m gonna go. Call me if you need help.”
I nodded, but didn’t speak. How was it possible this guy was still capable of hurting me? He knew exactly where to dig, and he did it with a smile.
The front door clicked shut, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s just you and me, angel face. Now that the mean boy’s gone, we’re going to party all day. Right?”
Simone squealed, then laid her head on my chest, which I took as staunch agreement.
