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Chapter 22
Jasmine
Jasmine buckled her half-asleep child in the car. The backs of her eyes stung, and her chest felt as if someone had punched a hole through it. But that cheating bastard didn’t deserve her tears.
Of course he would be engaged to her. Whoever she was, she clearly came from the same circles as Atlas—if her designer shoes were any indication. Her bag probably cost more than Jasmine could ever dream of affording; it screamed money. She was tall, pretty, and model perfect like he’d picked her out of a catalog. Everything I’m not.
Atlas belonged with someone like that. And to entertain the thought of keeping him for herself was clearly a fairy tale. She’d thought he was different. Guess that’s what I get when I open my heart up. Jasmine winced. The worst part was, she had begun to trust him.
So where does that leave Zoey? Had she truly fucked this up for her daughter? Had this all been an act from Atlas to get into her pants?
No. He’d turned her down. So, what did he want?
“Jasmine.” Atlas’s voice brought a fresh wave of pain slicing through her.
“Leave me alone.” She shut Zoey’s door and went over to hers before lifting the handle to open it.
Atlas’s hand clamped over hers. “Please let me explain.”
She shook her head, glancing at Zoey to make sure she was still sleeping. Jasmine lowered her voice, emotionally drained. “I can’t for the love of me figure out what you want. What are you doing here if you have a fiancée like that waiting back home for you? Do you get off on manipulating people?”
“It’s not what it looks like—”
“It never is. What do you want from me, Atlas? It isn’t sex or you’d have not been so chivalrous last night.” Jasmine searched his face.
The only other thing he’d talked about was her inn. He was in real estate.
“Is it the inn?” Her voice broke. Was this all to get her to sell?
He hesitated and closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. “No. It’s not about the inn. I came here . . . and then everything changed. I wasn’t expecting . . . you.”
Why did that have to make her heart flutter? Why did he have to seem so perfect? But he wasn’t. He was engaged!
“Well, I wish you the best for your engagement.” She opened the car door and slipped inside.
He held it open, conflict written across the hard lines and edges of his face. His eyes flashed to Zoey before he lowered his voice. “Veronica isn’t my fiancée.”
She pulled the door, and he stepped into the opening, lowering himself to look her in the eye. “When I was young and stupid, I thought I loved her. I haven’t been with her since I was twenty years old. Since I found out she had been cheating on me with my best friend.”
“You don’t need to tell me this.” She inhaled a shaky breath.
“But I want to. My family is the one pushing for us to get married now, even though I have no intention of doing that—I never did.”
His grey eyes seemed sincere, his words true, but how could she know for sure?
“I’m gonna be late,” she lied.
He bowed his head defeatedly, shoulders slumped as he backed away. She turned the key, hoping it would start and that she’d filled her humiliation quota for the day.
The engine turned over with a squeal, and she winced. She glanced to his sparkling new Mercedes as she backed out of the driveway—yet another reminder of how different their worlds were. Only they did share one thing.
Zoey’s dark hair caught her attention in the rearview mirror. It was time to tell him everything and face the fallout.
* * *
She parked the car outside Belle and Bently’s large home. After opening the back door, she unbuckled her daughter. Zoey’s eyes blinked open.
“You go ahead inside. I’m gonna make a call real quick and be right in.” She kissed Zoey’s cheek.
