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I open my mouth to speak, but the asshole beats me to it. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?” He swiftly searches the crowd, no doubt looking for his trophy wife. “Truce?” The fucker extends his hand for me to shake.
As if…
Pressing my lips to the point of pain that I don’t enjoy receiving, I don’t budge and reluctantly swallow my annoyance, biting the inside of my cheeks until the taste of copper invades my mouth.
My upset stomach leads me to consider throwing up on his shoes. I don’t and snarl my piece, pretending that my lips aren’t trembling.
Fucking emotions! At least, he’ll see that I’m still myself…
“Who do you think you are? You lost the right to request a truce when you failed to be a decent husband and father. You lost the right to call me son when you chose to abandon your family that you deemed worthless. You lost the right to assume that this breathtaking lady is my girlfriend.” I tilt my head to peck her temple. “You lost,” I conclude, my eyes pleading with her. “We have places to go, don’t we, dear?”
We stride past him without a second glance. I won’t give him the satisfaction of walking out of here without accomplishing what I came here to do. Visibility. Connection. Self-worth. I owe it to Garcia and Ash.
Once he’s out of earshot, my friend murmurs, “Oh, shit! That was intense and unexpected! I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be fine.” Ash’s telltale lie slips from my mouth. I embrace it; it’s a safety net against today’s bullshit.
She hugs me nonetheless and dares to speak her mind as a rushed whisper in my ear.
“Screw him!”
CHAPTER23
HATE THAT YOU KNOW ME
Ash
Sometimes, life bites you in the ass. I’d much rather have Nino do that. Unfortunately, my hot as fuck man won’t be back for a couple of days.
I’m so proud of the praise that his photographic skills garners, although the light snow is likely complicating his outdoor photo shoot. Yes, I checked my weather app because I’m a caring boyfriend. This French magazine represents a super cool opportunity. On top of that, he’s attending some trendy work event, thanks to Garcia. Can’t wait to hear about his Parisian adventures!
Thank God, he’ll be back in time to celebrate his birthday with me and our friends. Shh… it’s a surprise.
Half-asleep, I gulp coffee from the thermos. I have a fashion-tutorial session with Mrs. Edison before the store’s official business hours. She was so pleased with my latest fashion suggestions that she booked an extra appointment. She wants to learn how to select flattering clothing, how to follow fashion trends, colors, fabrics, and whatnot... I’ll remain her stylist nonetheless, and it also entails a bonus.
Despite missing Nino like crazy, the prospect of making his birthday special puts a smile on my face as I open the front door. Lost inside my head, I stumble over a wrapped rectangular package.
“Mmm…” I grab it, debating whether to open it, take it with me, or wait until later. Someone deposited it on my doorstep. No return address. No postage. No nothing. I gasp as I slowly connect the dots. This isn’t the first such package. “Who could—?” My mind starts reeling, but I force myself to focus. In haste, I quash my curiosity and stuff the box in my beloved backpack. “Not now, Ash.”
Did I just talk to myself?
I do it again anyway. “Car. Work. Now!”
A couple of red lights later, I tap my foot to the beat of my eclectic playlist. I’m so antsy that I reach for the parcel on the passenger seat and rip the wrapping paper. A surfing leash. “What the hell?” I know for a fact that it can’t be from Nino.
Who would send me surfing gifts if not—?
As if on cue, my phone rings, cutting that thought short. Unknown caller. On autopilot, I answer the call on speaker, although I would normally ignore it, let it go to voicemail, and call back if the person left a message.
“Hello, Ashton. I’m glad you finally picked up. After the stunt you pulled the last time I saw you, I didn’t think you’d call me back otherwise.”
Am I slow this morning, or is my brain unwilling to revisit my past?
The domineering tone. The underlying reproach. The conniving ways.
My sun-kissed face turns beet red and my lungs seize. At once, anger settles in the pit of my stomach. I take a deep breath to steady my voice and concentrate on the line of cars crawling in front of mine. “Sex wax. Leash… What’s next, Alex? I took you for a braver man than one who’d have someone deposit anonymous gifts on my doorstep,” I snap, pressing the gas pedal until I hit the speed limit. “Unless you relocated to Cali, and I should pursue a restraining order?”
I knew I should have blocked his number instead of erasing his contact!
