“I haven’t in over two weeks,” I tell her, my hot breath brushing against her skin.
“But you did?”
“I did. I listened to you cry.”
Another inhale, this one right under her chin, and her body shudders, shaking desperately against me. One hand flees the table, grasping my hair in a punishing fist when my tongue sneaks out, stealing a taste. She moans, and I grunt, my cock throbbing in my slacks. Her breasts press into my arm and fuck, I fucking hate her.
I hate her so goddamn much I’m crazy because of it.
I hate her for being in the hotel that night. For moving in next door. For being irresistible to me in ways I don’t comprehend. For befriending Stella and me not being able to say no. For being right that Stella needs more than I can give her. For being this sweet, bubbly person when I wish she were nothing short of evil.
Truly hateable.
I steal another taste, and then I’m retreating, walking back step after step. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are a wild, angry, stunning storm.
“You can’t touch me again.”
I smirk at that. If I want to touch her, I will, and we both know she’ll like it. “With any luck, I won’t have to see you at all.”
She straightens, moving now around tables and pots, heading in my direction. Toward the exit. But I don’t want her to go. I want to take her mouth with mine. I want her to beg for me. To cry out my name. My fucking name. Not Luca’s.
Somehow I’m blocking the doors, and I don’t even know how I got here.
She stands right before me, mere inches separating us, until she’s forced to crane her neck to meet my eyes. She smirks, and I know I won’t like what’s to come next.
“I don’t cry so much anymore at night. I’m usually busy doing other things. With my window open.”
Motherfucker.
“Stella can come over on Mondays and Wednesdays,” I tell her, returning my focus to Stella or this will only end one way. “Those are the best days for me since those are the days I work late.”
She swallows and nods. “I’ll take care of the groceries, and she can bring anything from this greenhouse she wants to use. You’ll even likely get dinner out of it.”
I shake my head. “I pay for the groceries. That’s nonnegotiable.”
She rolls her eyes but acquiesces with a shrug. “Fine. I’ll send you a receipt for whatever I buy.”
I shift to the side, forcing myself out of her path. She needs to go. I’m barely hanging on.
The door opens, and a welcome blast of cool hits me, brushing my hair back off my face and dragging reason back into me.
She falters by the door, her back to me. “For the record, you’re nothing like your brother. Even when you were pretending to be him. I liked the man I met in the hotel better than either of you in real life.” Then she’s gone, running out into the darkness of my backyard.
Me too, I think.
I liked being him with her. That guy. The one who reminded me of me from days long forgotten.
Which is why I let her go. It’s why I allow her to walk back into my house and tell Stella the plan. I watch as they speak in my kitchen, and Stella jumps up and down with a squeal I can hear even from out here. She gives her a hug, and Elle is laughing. Smiling at my girl. Making her happy in ways I try to and likely fail at more often than not.
Stella needs a woman in her life, and with my mother being sick and my sister working long hours and in a serious relationship, and Layla and Amelia doing their own family thing with Oliver, it seems Elle is her best option.
Stella needs Elle, and I need to let that happen.
I just have to figure out a way to keep my distance when keeping my distance seems to require a herculean strength I already know I don’t possess.
13
“Why won’t you call me back?” David asks as I set the phone between my ear and my shoulder, as I gather everything I need for class. He texted it was an emergency, and because I’m gullible, I answered when he called and now, I’m regretting everything.
I should hang up, but I’d rather deal with this once and for all.
“Because there’s absolutely no reason to. We’re divorced.”
“And I’ve told you that’s a mistake. It should have never happened.”
“And I’ve told you I disagree. That it absolutely should have happened.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Elle. We took vows. Vows I took seriously.”
“David, I don’t know what to say to you anymore. You signed the papers. You agreed to the terms. I don’t see why you keep calling me. I’ve held up my end of the agreement and haven’t said a word to reporters about anything.”
And they’ve been calling me too. Word got out about the divorce when someone found our court documents and since then, it’s been a never-ending stream of calls. Thankfully, no one has shown up on my doorstep. Yet.
“I don’t care about agreements. I love you. Come back to me. Please. We can work all of this nonsense out. Make it like it never happened.”
“That’s not what I want anymore. I tried that, David. I tried that for more than two years. I did everything I could think to do to make you show me the love you claimed to feel. To make you treat me with respect instead of like a doormat. No, worse. You treated me worse than a doormat. I went to therapy. Couples counseling—without you, might I add. I read dozens of books. I changed my hair, lost and gained weight, stopped talking back. I lost myself, David, trying to be who you wanted me to be, and it’s not okay. You didn’t care we were over for six months. Suddenly you do?”
He huffs into the phone, and I know that huff enough to know he’s building up a fireball of anger along with it. “I lost an endorsement because of you. Do you know what that means for me? For my career? Do you have any idea all that you’ve cost me already?”
“Why would you lose an endorsement over getting divorced?”
“Because it was with a restaurant chain who believes in family fucking values, Elle! That’s why. Our divorce is a stain on my reputation. Is that what you wanted?” His voice booms through the phone, forcing me to pull it from my ear.
Six months ago, that voice would have had me trembling. I would have apologized and said whatever I needed to say to abate his anger. But this isn’t six months ago, and he can’t do anything to me now other than yell. His words no longer hurt, and I no longer fear what he’s capable of.
“I’m sorry to hear that, David. Maybe if they’d known the real you, they wouldn’t have taken you on in the first place.”
“You’re such a selfish, spoiled bitch. You always have been. Couples fight. Grow up. I never hit you or mistreated you. You had everything your heart desired and then some.”
Except being treated like I mattered by the one person who mattered to me.
“You think this temper tantrum you’re pulling will get you what you want from me? Haven’t I already given you enough? You had no problems spending my money or taking it when it suited you. This isn’t over, Elle. You are my fucking wife—”
That’s when I hang up.
I don’t think David knows where I live, but it’s not exactly hard to find. The lease is in my name. Frankly, my parents would be the first ones to tell him anyway. They’re as furious with me as he is. Couples fight. I nearly crack a smile at that. Nearly.