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She must see something hardening in my face, because she rushes out, “Yes, but not in the way you think. It was just…emotionally damaging.”
“Don’t minimize the kind of hurt you experienced, Nadia. Sometimes that’s even worse.” I reach out and squeeze her fingers.
She nods. “My therapist says the same thing. You two would get along swimmingly.” She gives a little smile before her eyes stare off, unfocused from too many drinks. “Luke and I worked together in New York. I was his rebound. He liked to remind me of that all the time. How he settled for me when the woman he really wanted—our friend, Ruth—married someone else. He hated how career-focused I was. He hated whenever I’d put my work before him.” She shudders. “Everything was all about him. His image. His appearance. And having a woman as his equal didn’t give him the big shot lawyer image he expected.”
“He couldn’t handle that you overshadowed him?” I ask, angling my body toward her, drowning out the rowdy crowd of the bar and giving her all my attention.
“Yes and no,” she tells me. “Our projects were always separate. My therapist says he couldn’t handle having someone as his equal. I’m coming to terms with that, but all the belittling comments and the constant criticism wore me down like you can’t imagine.”
My brows pinch together. I’m thankful that she’s in therapy. No one should bottle shit up like that. But I hate that that dick had to be the cause.
“What a prick. Can’t you sue him?” I hear myself getting riled up. “Make him pay for the therapy? I’m not even joking. You’re one hell of a lawyer.”
“I wish. He’d probably get off on it, though. He’s one hell of a lawyer, too.” She sighs into her empty glass. Then she laughs bitterly. “He would become irrationally angry with me for the smallest of things. The dumbest things. Like eating French fries off his plate. Or not pulling my car up far enough in the driveway. Oh my god—and he definitely never had the patience to actually wait for me to have an…” She looks up, suddenly shy.
I swallow. “An orgasm?”
Our eyes hold. She nods.
“I constantly felt like my very existence grated on his nerves. It was…exhausting. I never felt good enough. He pointed out every one of my flaws. He compared me to every woman he ever came across.”
“Do you think he was seeing other people behind your back?” I ask, feeling my jaw tick as I wait for her answer.
She spits out a laugh. “He was having full-on intercourse with other humans…objects…vegetables…whatever he could get his hands on.”
My eyebrows shoot up and touch the ceiling. “Vegetables?”
“I walked in on him with a potato,” she deadpans.
“A po-WHAT?!” I bark out, loud enough to get the bartender’s attention.
“Yes. I caught him fucking a potato. Please don’t ask me for the details. I don’t want to relive the trauma. Let’s just say, I really, really miss eating Shepard’s pie.”
I’m trying to put the picture together in my head, but my brain just can’t brain it.
Nadia drops her head and shakes it. “Beyond the cheating, he made me feel ashamed for wanting to be loved. He made me feel needy and weak.” Her head shoots up and she straightens her spine and her eyes fill with determination. “So I learned to be strong. I learned to be tougher than steel. So no one could ever look down on me again. Eventually, I couldn’t take Luke’s shit anymore. So, I packed up and moved to Sin Valley.”
My blood boils. What kind of man does that crap? Nothing gets me more riled up than a man that treats his woman like that. A man who abuses the trust of the one person who loves him. A man who hurts his woman without a second thought. And it being Nadia we’re talking about? Fuck, my anger hisses off the charts.
Suddenly it all makes sense. Nadia being guarded like she is. Being closed off. Her jaded views of romance and dating. It can all be traced back to that pig.
“That…thatLukeis not a man. A real man doesn’t treat his woman like that.” I force my temper down, and give Nadia a small grin. “I hate what brought you here, Dream Girl. But I’m glad you’re here now.” I lace my fingers through hers. “You were never asking too much, Nadia. You were asking the wrong man.”
She stares off in the distance, her expression grave. “Whoa. That was so deep…”
“Don’t get all fluttery-eyed,” I say to lighten the mood. “I heard some guy say that on a podcast once. I don’t even remember his name.”
Nadia laughs and laughs. And then she sobers up momentarily, examining my face with a tender stare. “I could talk to you for hours…”
“I feel the same damn way. I’ll sit right here with you all night if you sit with me.”
She props her chin on her fist and smiles at me. “Really?”
I nod, assuring her. “Really.”
Her fuzzy gaze stays chained to mine and the seconds tick by between us. “Shit…” she whispers under her breath.
“What?” I whisper back.
