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“Get out,” I say calmly, not moving from my spot on the bed.
I hate that I’m still naked and so vulnerable to him right now.
I need him to leave.
I need him to go.
“Scar... Please,” he starts, but his words are cut off by my own.
“I said GET OUT!” I scream, the sound of my voice surprising both of us.
“Scarlett. Don't do this,” he pleads, moving toward me on the bed.
Realizing that he’s not going to go away and not wanting to continue to argue with him in my current state, I pull the sheet around my body and without a word, walk to the bathroom, locking myself inside.
I look at myself in the mirror and take a few deep breaths. Just moments ago I was happier than I’ve been in a very long time. And now... Well, now I feel like someone has sucker punched me right in the stomach and I’m left gasping for air.
How could he do this to me?
How could he not tell me he was engaged?
Did he really think I wouldn't find out?
Locating a dirty pair of jeans and a black tank top on the bathroom floor, I quickly slip them on. They’re the same clothes that Westin peeled from my body last night before he made love to me in the shower. And while the image is too painful to think about right now, I have no other clothes in here, so these will have to do.
I’m surprised I’m so composed, my eyes refusing to shed a single tear. And while I feel them building, threatening to spill over, I have thus far been able to fight them back.
I take another deep breath before pulling open the bathroom door, walking into the living room. I spot Westin sitting on my black leather couch, his elbows on his knees, head dropped into his hands.
He stands the moment he hears me enter the room.
“Scarlett, I swear to God I can explain.” He walks toward me.
I hold my hands up, gesturing for him not to come any close, grateful that for once he actually does as I ask.
“Was that your fiancée?” I ask, somehow managing to keep my voice even.
“Scar,” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Yes or no, Westin?” Again my voice stands firm.
“Yes, I mean, no. She was. I ended things.”
“How long?”
He seems confused by the question.
“How long ago did you end things?”
“Shortly after the wedding.”
“Jesus, Westin.” I throw my hands up. “You were engaged to another woman when we slept together?” I gawk at him, unable to wrap my head around this. “Did you even think for a second what that would do to her? Do you even care?”
I’m not sure why I feel the need to defend the woman who was screaming in my ear just minutes ago but as a woman, I feel like it’s my obligation to do so.
“Of course I care, Scarlett. And I feel like shit for it. But right now, you’re my priority.”
“Don't feed me that bullshit, Westin. I’m not the blind sixteen year old girl you so easily manipulated the first time around. I will not stand by and let history repeat itself. I wanted this to be different.” I choke back the quiver in my voice. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted you for once in your life to just be honest with me.”
