Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Connor must be thinking the same thing. “Don’t you ever get sick of eating the same thing every single day?”
“No.”
His baffled expression is comical. “But don’t you ever want to order a big, greasy burger?”
“No.” She glances at the messy remnants of his pizza sub. “Do you understand how bad it is for you? It’s full of fat and salt and preservatives.”
Connor lifts his shirt up and smooths his hand over his belly, as hard and sculpted as mine. “Does it look like it matters to me?”
She snorts. “You need to start eating better.”
“Fine.” He offers a one-shouldered shrug. “You cook and I’ll eat better.”
“As if. It’s bad enough I have to clean the bathroom after him.” She jerks her chin toward me.
“Well, you won’t have much to clean today, what with my two-minute cold shower and all,” I remind her dryly.
“You deserved that.”
I smirk. “Yeah. I did. You win.”
She falters. “Wow, conceding already.”
“What can I say?” I tap my chest. “I have no ambition, remember?”
Her gaze follows my gesture, and the hint of a smile curls her lips. It’s wiped off quickly as the door creaks open and her ex steps out.
David’s eyes skim over the area. They pause on the bench where the three of us sit, widening slightly—I can almost hear the curse in his head—and then he quickly averts his gaze to where his new girl sits.
“Hey, David!” Connor hollers, waving at him. Ryan lets out a noise of mortification. “How was the rest of your night on Friday?”
David’s shoulders sink a little as he heads for the other table, claiming the spot next to Ryan’s replacement.
Connor watches them, perfecting a menacing stare I didn’t think he could pull off. “I should nail her just to piss him off. What do you think, Ry?”
Her face is pale as she takes in the scene, and I can almost see the pieces click in her mind.
Fuck.
She didn’t know.
“I think I’m going to finish my lunch inside.” She begins collecting her food, her hands shaking.
“No. Stay.” I settle my hand on her leg, just above her knee, before she has a chance to stand. “Make him think you don’t care.”
Her body tenses in response. To my touch or my words, I can’t say. Probably both. “You don’t get it.”
“Don’t I?” I study her profile in the noon sunlight. She has smooth skin, not a scar or pimple in sight. And her face is actually a lot prettier than I first appreciated, in a wholesome way.
I know exactly what she feels like. Two weeks after Tasha and I broke up, I was sitting in a bar when she walked in with Anthony—a guy I’d known since I was seven. I had three choices: leave, pick up a chick, or start a fight.
My knuckles took a while to heal.
“If you get up and go, you’re the heartbroken girl who’s running into the bathroom to cry. Is that what you want?” Because it’s not the person who’s been causing me stress at home.
She shakes off my hand from her knee. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. You want to look like the woman who doesn’t give a shit and has moved on already. Fake it till you make it and all that. Let him be uncomfortable.” That’s what this sourness is, I’m guessing—a shield. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know how to wield it properly. Everyone gets the brunt.
“He’s right. Just sit here between the two of us and eat your weird bread and pretend you don’t care.” Connor stretches his legs and, leaning back into the bench, closes his eyes.
With a deep breath, Ryan shifts her focus to her yogurt, peeling off the foil lid. “You saw him on Friday night?” she asks quietly.
“Yeah,” I admit without hesitation.
“So, you knew about her?”
I can see Ryan replaying our conversation that night, when I brought up her honorable accountant. “Yup.”
Her jaw clenches. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When was I supposed to do that?” I give her a pointed look. “You were too busy yelling at me and plotting revenge. I figured you’d hear about it soon, anyway.”
“Still, I would have liked more warning.”
“We should get off on another foot, then. A friendlier one.”
Her gaze cuts to me before refocusing on her lunch. “Do you think …” Her voice drifts.
“That he was with her before you broke up?” I finish off the question that would be on my mind if I were in her shoes. Hell, I did ask it. To this day, I’m not convinced Tasha and Anthony weren’t fucking around behind my back.
She peers up at me, blinking repeatedly. I don’t need to say it aloud; she’s figured it out.
“This is humiliating,” she whispers under her breath.
“Forget about that loser.” I collect her apple and toss it in the air once before setting it back gently in her lap. “He doesn’t deserve you.”