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Bridget was next.Layla! You’re dating Zeke? I saw your post. Be careful with him. He’s not an easy person. I think he has a secret history.Well, she was right about that. Mom killed herself, lived in foster care. He did some things to survive he’d probably not like to talk about, except apparently with me.Although, if anyone could bring someone’s heart around, it would be you. You always were the most loving and kindest of a" of us.
I stared at her words. Hope was usually the one to talk about emotions. But Bridget had it wrong. Hope was the one who was the kindest and most overtly loving. I was always a little bit lost.
Not true.I texted her back.Most days I don’t know which way is up with emotions. I just le# my fiancé at the altar.
With my back steeled, I played with one of my braids and forced myself to look at Justin’s message.
I hate you.
That was all it said. He hated me. Rage surged through me before I forced myself to cool it down. He hated me? Whaton Earth could I have done to have earned that? I didn’t do anything to him.
I flipped over to the message from Kit and groaned. He had a woman naked beneath him. And beneath the picture were the wordsyou’re a slut.
For half a second, I wondered who had taken that photo, but then it quickly moved on to more important things. I was a slut and my brother hated me.
I threw my phone down on the bed so hard it bounced into the air before hitting my pillow. Maybe I should have done it harder and let it crack on the floor. Then no one could contact me at all.
I left the room before I could overthink it and went to the kitchen. There had to be food. I wasn’t eating for hours. Zeke hadn’t told me that, but this was France, they ate later than Americans. I needed something to tide me over. Not eating wasn’t going to happen on the days that I ran.
And yes, I planned to do it again. Even hated sluts could run to take care of their stress.
I opened the fridge. A plate was wrapped, and I took it out, knowing immediately it wasn’t for me. It was a salad with chicken the chef had made for Zeke. How did I know? It was very specific. Dressing on the side, chicken cooked until it was blackened. It didn’t look like something made for me.
He hadn’t eaten lunch.
Well…that wasn’t good. A hungry Zeke was going to be even more unpleasant than a well-fed Zeke. I set his plate down on the counter and grabbed some cheese and meat I found in a drawer. He really liked cheese. Cutting off a bit for myself, I ate mine with some crackers quickly before I downed some water. That was enough food. I was hungry, but that didn’t mean I had to overeat.
I grabbed some of the cheese for Zeke, put it on another plate, and poured him the last of a wine he’d corked in the fridge.
On quiet feet, I headed upstairs and knocked on his door.
“What?” he yelled in response, and I cracked it open.
Before he could holler at me to go away, I held up the plates and glass I was doing a rather poor job of balancing. I was, however, determined not to spill. “Brought your lunch.”
He sat at his desk staring at me for a long second before he nodded. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I wanted to.” I smiled again and set it down on a clear portion of his desk. “See you later.”
I would have left, but he stopped me with his words. “You look really, really pretty. When did you get that? Or is it something you brought with you?”
Damn it. He’d made me flutter inside. “I got it today. I used your card. But it was cheap. I could pay you back, probably.”
“Don’t.” He took a bite of the salad and then stared at the cheese. “Did Henry give me this cheese?”
“No, that was me. I know you really like cheese, and I thought it might make the salad more exciting.”
He took a large bite. “You’ve made my day. You have no idea. How was the shopping?”
“It was good, actually. I got some things I love.” I headed toward his door. “Enjoy your lunch. Oh, we’re all over social media so there must be some kind of response coming. If my dad is going to screw up, it must be coming. That kiss from last night was genius.”
He set down his fork. “What?”
“The kiss. On the dance floor. You clearly did it for the cameras. We’re everywhere. So good work.” Look at me being breezy and acting like I didn’t care.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I didn’t kiss you for some cameras. Is that what you think?”
No, it hadn’t been until he’d turned me down this morning. I shrugged. Lightweight and easy going. That was the name of the game. “See you later, Zeke.”
