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I wasn’t that kind of person.
Until now.
And it made me feel like a real fuckin’ heel.
Even though Stuart was a douche canoe. He still didn’t deserve me stepping in and fucking his girlfriend.
Fiancée.
Fuck.
That killed whenever I thought about her marrying that idiot.
“What about that movie star you were seeing a while back? I can’t remember her name?” Trey asked, and I wanted to punch him right in the throat.
“We broke up months ago,” I told him a half-truth. Yes, we did break up. But we were never really together.
My publicist had fished around for someone to be my girlfriend. After Jillian gave Stuart the rose—and not me—he said my reputation was shit.
Not that I cared at that moment.
All I cared about was going out to my cabin and hiding there for as long as I could. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Let alone start a new relationship.
Jillian’s actions had made me question my sanity. For real.
What we had together—fuck. It had been like nothing I’d ever felt before in my life.
And I knew she hadn’t invited anyone else over to her place during the Single Girl show—because I was in her goddamn bed every night. I would have noticed if she hadn’t come home. Or if she’d brought someone else home with her.
But, no.
It was just me.
Every night of the show.
Until the last night.
When she gave fucking Stuart the fucking rose.
“Oh, yeah. Marissa. I remember seeing you guys on social media,” Beau said as he nodded. “What happened?”
I was about ten seconds from jumping into this lake. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I turned and gave them a brief glance. “I don’t know. I’m not the easiest guy to get along with.” That was the only excuse I could come up with. I wasn’t going to tell them the truth.
That lying and being fake had slowly chipped away at my soul. And even though Marissa had been kind and understanding—she’d hinted a few times about wanting things to go further.
Well, more than hinted.
And I didn’t enjoy fucking around with other people’s hearts. Not like Jillian did. Yeah, that woman was making a whole sport out of jacking my heart around.
But I on the other hand didn’t have the stomach for it. As soon as Marissa started asking for more—by slipping into my bed, naked—I called the whole thing off. She was too good of a human—I couldn’t hurt her like I’d just been hurt.
It wasn’t fair.
So, against the advisement of my P.R. guy—who went ballistic when I informed him Marissa and I would no longer be pretending to be a couple—I called the fake relationship off.
Marissa had taken the news fairly well. Aside from saying some shit about me in social media, and in interviews. But that I forgave her for. I assumed it was likely her P.R. people’s doing.
She had to save face. And I understood that. If it meant making me sound like the bad guy, then so be it.
