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I stood there in the doorway, not moving.
“What?” he asked tersely.
“Last night didn’t mean anything to you?” I asked. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but some of the hurt seeped through.
He was quiet for a moment, as though weighing his words. Then he said, “It was fun – but that was last night. It doesn’t change anything.”
His face was like stone when he said it.
Doesn’t change anything.
“I see,” I said icily, trying to camouflage my pain with anger.
“Go get ready.”
I closed the door on him and made my way to the shower.
I didn’t start crying until the water was on full blast, and I was sure he couldn’t hear.
47
Jack
What the fuck was I thinking?
Yeah, the sex had been incredible. For several hours, I forgot all about the shitstorm that was my life.
And then this morning, when I looked over at her sleeping next to me, I remembered who had started the shitstorm in the first place.
It was a strange sensation. Here was this gorgeous woman lying next to me in bed, her face like an angel’s, her body like a Playboy Playmate’s…
…and then there was the memory of what she had done to me.
I remembered what Lou had said that night two weeks ago, talking about the Midnight Riders: At least I didn’t sell them out for a piece of ass.
He was wrong. I didn’t sell them out.
But I had the uneasy feeling that I was close to selling myself out.
What, we sleep together and suddenly we’re good now? It’s okay that she lied to my face – repeatedly? That she let me walk into a trap? That I lost everything because of her?
A couple of fucks later, and it’s all supposed to be okay.
To hell with her.
The bitch of it was that I wanted it to be okay. I wanted to go back to the way it was. I wanted to say The slate is clean.
But that shit wasn’t true. I couldn’t let it go that easily.
I reminded myself that everything she’d done was because of Ali. That Fiona was only trying to get vengeance for her cousin.
I looked over at the picture on the wall, the one Fiona had asked about after our first night together –
Suddenly I was overwhelmed with anger. I remembered her being pissy and jealous that morning, which apparently was all just an act. A way to pump me for information and not blow her cover.
She was even lying to me THEN. Right at the fucking beginning.
If I’m going to be honest, though, there was another emotion under the anger – one that made me incredibly uncomfortable.
