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He blanched. “I said that in the heat of the moment. I was upset that you seemed to care more about your work than our engagement, so…”
“You fucked my sister on our living room couch and tried to gaslight me into thinking it was my fault? Then youmarriedher a year after you proposed to me and didn’t say a single word to me for years until you ran into me and magically realized you were still into me?”
This wasn’t about me or his relationship with Georgia. Maybe there was trouble in paradise, but at the end of the day, Bentley was driven by his ego. He’d seen Xavier, who was a better man than him in every single way that counted, and he’d seen Georgia’s reaction to him.
He felt threatened, so he was trying to claw back power by 1) seducing me away from Xavier, 2) proving hecouldget me back despite what he’d done, and 3) secretly sticking it to Georgia for whatever slights she’d committed against him.
He was more transparent than a poorly stitched web.
“It wasn’t like that,” Bentley said, his cheeks red. “You haveno ideathe pressure I was under at the time. I had a lot riding on my transfer to New York, which I’d insisted on so I could be closer toyou. Then I got there, and you weren’t even paying attention to me. I was insecure, I admit it, but I’ve been paying for my mistake since.” He gave me the same puppy-dog eyes my younger self could never resist. “We were so good together once. Do you remember London? Us walking by the Thames, eating at the best restaurants every night, checking into a hotel, and staying there all weekend…it was perfect.”
I ran a hand over the stem of my wineglass, silently taking in the man who’d broken my heart and destroyed my relationship with my family. My father and Georgia weren’t blameless, but Bentley had been the trigger.
Once upon a time, I’d thought he was the love of my life. I’d been so swept up by his good looks, his deceptively sweet words, and the magic of falling in love abroad like in the rom-coms I watched so often. His proposal was supposed to mark the start of our happily ever after.
But happily ever afters didn’t always end so happily, and now, after age and experience stripped the rose tint off my glasses, I saw him with crystal clarity.
His hair was too perfect, his clothes too pressed, his smile too fake. His words dripped with entitlement instead of a teasing lilt, and what I’d mistaken for charm was simply manipulation wrapped in shiny clothing.
He was so utterly boring, so nauseatingly fake, that I couldn’t believe I’d ever fallen in love with him.
Most of all, I couldn’t believe I’d letthisasshole scare me away from relationships for so long. He didn’t deserve the power I’d given him over me, and I was done letting him ruin my life.
“I do remember London.” I smiled. He smiled back, clearly taking it as a sign that I was warming to his advances. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying we can have that again.” He paused and glanced around. “I can’t leave Georgia while she’s pregnant, but I know we won’t work out in the long term. However, you and I can still rekindle things in the meantime. I know you miss me as much as I miss you.”
“I’m dating someone, Bentley.”
“Who, Xavier?” He snorted. “Come on, Sloanie. We both know that loser isn’t good enough for you.”
“I see,” I repeated. My expression didn’t waver at my much-hated nickname—Sloanie. It was so damn condescending. “I’m… flattered, and obviously, there’s really only one answer.”
“Obviously,” he said with enough smugness to power an entire fraternity house.
“Take your proposition, and go fuck yourself with it.”
Bentley blinked. My words registered, and his smile disappeared beneath a mottle of red. “You—”
“Let me make a few things clear.” I spoke over him. “One, I would rather sleep with a leprosy-infected ogre before Ieverlet you touch me again. You are a disgusting, misogynist pig whose brain is inversely proportionate to the size of your giant ego, and you’re lucky I was too young when we met to know otherwise. Two, Georgia hasmanyfaults, but she and every other woman who’s unlucky enough to cross your path deserves better than you. I hope the next time she throws a vase at you, she doesn’t miss. Three, Xavier is ten times the man you could ever hope to be. He’s smarter, kinder, and better in bed.” I cocked my head. “News flash, Bentley, you’re not the sex god you think you are. Your technique is shit, and you couldn’t find a clit if the woman drew you a map and marked it with a giant X.” A burst of laughter punctuated the end of my rant. A group of twenty-something women had taken over the neighboring booth, and they were listening to us with rapt attention.
Story Sunday indeed.I hoped one of them recognized Bentley and told everyone they knew about his shortcomings. It was a long shot, but it was what he deserved.
I stood, my smile widening at his indignant sputters. “All that to say, I disrespectfully decline your offer to be your mistress. Don’t contact me again, or I’ll slap you with a restraining order and make sure every single person in your workplace and social circle knows you can’t takenofor an answer.”
“You fucking bitch—”
I’d ordered the biggest glass of the darkest red wine, and I didn’t wait for him to finish his trite insult before I tossed the full contents in his face and walked out. Once I was outside, I stopped the recording on my phone and saved it to my files.
I hadn’t decided whether to send it to Georgia yet. She deserved to know what her husband was doing and saying behind her back, but our relationship was complicated, so I held on to it for now.
Bentley didn’t follow me, though I hadn’t expected him to.
My lips curled into a smile at the memory of his mouth hanging open while wine dripped from his hair and chin.
I’d written many film reviews excoriating the cheesy power move of throwing a drink in a guy’s face, but as I hailed a cab to go home, I concluded I’d been wrong.
The move may be cliché, but it was damn satisfying. Sometimes, the rom-coms got it right.
