“No, darlin’. I don’t have to know his new woman to know he’s an idiot. You’re beautiful, Quinn. And brave as fuck to leave everything you’ve known to start over.”
“Yeah,” she says with bitterness. “So brave, I take my clothes off, so men have something for their spank bank later.”
I swallow the putrid vitriol that wants to be unleashed. I may be into exhibitionism on occasion, but the thought of everyone seeing her like that makes me a bit murderous, even if I’ve been witness to it. But it is not my place or business to say anything to her.
The truth is that’s one more way she’s brave. She is doing what she needs to do to get on her feet on her terms. I can’t fault her for that. Not everyone has access to trust funds and inheritance like I did at her age.
“Yeah,cher, that makes you brave too. And what we’re doing?” I point between us. “There is nothing wrong with that. You and your husband have filed for divorce. He kicked you out, though why the hell you just left is beyond me, and moved in his new girlfriend. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
“We had an ironclad prenup.” She drops her head again. “I was such a stupid kid.”
“Did you love him?”
“Yes. I’m not going to cop out and say I didn’t. I did love him.”
“Do you still love him?” I have no idea why I ask that.
My stomach drops when her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, I want to take the question back. I don’t know why, but I do not want to hear her say she still loves the guy. “You don’t have to answer that,” I blurt out, hoping she won’t.
“I don’t love him as I did,” she admits, “but it’s not something that just goes away. Ihaveloved him since I was seventeen. But he broke my heart and my trust. Sometimes I think he broke me.”
Fuck, this feels weird. Almost like déjà vu but not quite. I feel like a condolence prize, but I know I shouldn’t. She’s not mine. I’m not hers. We’re just having fun for now.
So I deflect. “Maybe a good rebound was just what you needed.” I waggle my eyebrows with a forced grin.
“Shut up,” she laughs, wiping her tears away. The sound washes some of the tension in my chest away. “Tell me about Zoey. She must be pretty special if you still talk to her after all this time.”
This is usually where I throw out a vague statement or two. Cover the entirety of our relationship about how I had her, I fucked it up and lost her, and how I’m still not over her.
But that’s not what I want to tell her at all…
Remember the years
Seven weeks ago
“What do you want to know?” I ask her quietly. Talking about my time with Zoey isn’t easy. Zoey is proof that I destroy everything. I took a sweet girl and corrupted her as much as I could, then left her for dead.
“I don’t know. There must be a reason that you stayed so close.”
I chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it. “Because Zoey is truly the kindest, warmest, most forgiving person in the world. I fucked up on a supreme level, but she not only forgave me, she let me continue to be part of her life.”
“I doubt it was that bad.” She gives me an unbelieving, doubtful look.
“I gave her a drink laced with drugs after she told me she didn’t want to do them with me that night, and when she started having a bad reaction, I left her.”
Her gasp fills the bathroom with an echo. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s nothing she can say. How do you argue with irrefutable evidence that I’m scum?
“Why would you do that?”
“Anger? Stupidity? I was already trashed out of my mind? It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for it.”
“It still doesn’t explain a lot. For her to be so upset that you’re not talking to her, it can’t be that simple. Tell me.”
“All right,” I sigh. “I’ll tell you, but not in here. It’s a long story, and this tub is killing my ass.”
She stands, taking me by the hand. “My room? I kind of need some pants.”
I slide my free hand up her leg, under my shirt to find her bare ass. “Think I like you like this,” I grin as I grip a handful.
