Then I turn and walk out of his penthouse, Tony calling after me right up until I’m in the elevator.
I think, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was coming. Not the part where I walked in on my boyfriend with another woman and a man, but something was going to happen that tipped the scales and confirmed we weren’t meant to be.
The fact that we’d been together almost six years and Tony hadn’t proposed, hadn’t even talked about marriage for at least three years, should have been my first clue but I was blissful in my ignorance, content in believing it would happen when the time was right.
Oddly enough, I’m not all that angry or sad.
Humiliated? Absolutely. Hurt? Definitely. Do I feel like the biggest idiot to ever live? Yep, but it’s more over the fact that I allowed myself to be put into a situation like this, that I allowed someone to cheat on me because I was all too happy to keep my blinders on.
Walking in on his ménage is a real blow to the ego, honestly. I spent years trying to get Tony to step outside his comfort zone and experiment with me, but he wouldn’t even hear me out, made me feel bad about even suggesting anything outside of missionary position, and come to find out he’s got a girlfriend and a boyfriend on the side.
Then you add in the blatant disregard of my feelings and the lack of respect Tony has for me—something made evident in his consideration to step outside our relationship at all—and I guess I really am that painfully shy, nerdy, shut-in with hardly any life experience where it counts. I’m not worth the trouble of being with at all, let alone worth someone’s loyalty and respect, their love and the desire to fight for me when things take a turn for the inevitable end.
I’m not heartbroken over ending things with Tony, not really.
I’m heartbroken overmeand how right my mother was.
I wasn’t worth her time and I’m obviously not worth anyone else’s either.
CHAPTERTWO
ZAK
My bedroom floorcreaks as the door swings open and the second I feel someone lean over me, I’m up and aiming my SIG into the darkness.
“Whoa, man. Chill the fuck out.”
I grunt and lower my gun as the lamp next to my bed clicks on. “One of these days I’m going to fucking shoot your dumbass.”
Jackal grins down at me. “You ain’t that good a shot.”
Liar.
“What do you want?” My phone says it’s ten thirty which means several things.
One, I passed out as soon as I hit the mattress and slept hard for the first time in ages, not that it’s a shocker because we literally rolled back into town less than three hours ago. Two, I didn’t ice my arm after my shower like I should have, so now it’s screaming at me like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum. And three, Jackal is here because he’s a psycho that doesn’t need to sleep, and either volunteered us for another run or he wants to go out and get his dick wet somewhere other than the clubhouse, and therefore needs a wingman.
“I’m thirsty.” His grin widens. “Parched, even.”
Called that shit.
“So?” I scrub a hand over my face. “Go get a beer from the kitchen.”
Jackal shakes his head. “I need something stronger, brother. Something with a little bite to it.”
Jesus.
I swear to God if he weren’t my best friend, I would have shot Jackal on purpose years ago. He knows I don’t like going out and knows exactly why, yet somehow this asshat manages to con me into participating in every one of his hair-brained schemes and destined to fail attempts at getting laid.
That’s not fair.
Jackal scores about seventy-five percent of the time, which is pretty fucking good since his mouth typically gets him in trouble the other twenty-five percent.
“I’m sure there’s stronger shit down there.” I scratch my bare chest on a yawn. “And I’m sure there are enough mice and butts down there to sate you too.”
He rolls his eyes. “No shit. The clubhouse is crawling with loose pussy, but I want a challenge. I’m all wired and shit from that last run, need to blow off some steam in a different environment.”
“Take Pork Chop,” I grunt as I punch my pillow back into a lump. “Or Spider.”
