I stared at her words. Hope was usually the one to talk about emotions. But Bridget had it wrong. Hope was the one who was the kindest and most overtly loving. I was always a little bit lost.
Not true. I texted her back. Most days I don’t know which way is up with emotions. I just left my fiancé at the altar.
With my back steeled, I played with one of my braids and forced myself to look at Justin’s message.
I hate you.
That was all it said. He hated me. Rage surged through me before I forced myself to cool it down. He hated me? What on Earth could I have done to have earned that? I didn’t do anything to him.
I flipped over to the message from Kit and groaned. He had a woman naked beneath him. And beneath the picture were the words you’re a slut.
For half a second, I wondered who had taken that photo, but then it quickly moved on to more important things. I was a slut and my brother hated me.
I threw my phone down on the bed so hard it bounced into the air before hitting my pillow. Maybe I should have done it harder and let it crack on the floor. Then no one could contact me at all.
I left the room before I could overthink it and went to the kitchen. There had to be food. I wasn’t eating for hours. Zeke hadn’t told me that, but this was France, they ate later than Americans. I needed something to tide me over. Not eating wasn’t going to happen on the days that I ran.
And yes, I planned to do it again. Even hated sluts could run to take care of their stress.
I opened the fridge. A plate was wrapped, and I took it out, knowing immediately it wasn’t for me. It was a salad with chicken the chef had made for Zeke. How did I know? It was very specific. Dressing on the side, chicken cooked until it was blackened. It didn’t look like something made for me.
He hadn’t eaten lunch.
Well…that wasn’t good. A hungry Zeke was going to be even more unpleasant than a well-fed Zeke. I set his plate down on the counter and grabbed some cheese and meat I found in a drawer. He really liked cheese. Cutting off a bit for myself, I ate mine with some crackers quickly before I downed some water. That was enough food. I was hungry, but that didn’t mean I had to overeat.
I grabbed some of the cheese for Zeke, put it on another plate, and poured him the last of a wine he’d corked in the fridge. On quiet feet, I headed upstairs and knocked on his door.
“What?” he yelled in response, and I cracked it open.
Before he could holler at me to go away, I held up the plates and glass I was doing a rather poor job of balancing. I was, however, determined not to spill. “Brought your lunch.”
He sat at his desk staring at me for a long second before he nodded. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I wanted to.” I smiled again and set it down on a clear portion of his desk. “See you later.”
I would have left, but he stopped me with his words. “You look really, really pretty. When did you get that? Or is it something you brought with you?”
Damn it. He’d made me flutter inside. “I got it today. I used your card. But it was cheap. I could pay you back, probably.”
“Don’t.” He took a bite of the salad and then stared at the cheese. “Did Henry give me this cheese?”
“No, that was me. I know you really like cheese, and I thought it might make the salad more exciting.”
He took a large bite. “You’ve made my day. You have no idea. How was the shopping?”
“It was good, actually. I got some things I love.” I headed toward his door. “Enjoy your lunch. Oh, we’re all over social media so there must be some kind of response coming. If my dad is going to screw up, it must be coming. That kiss from last night was genius.”
He set down his fork. “What?”
“The kiss. On the dance floor. You clearly did it for the cameras. We’re everywhere. So good work.” Look at me being breezy and acting like I didn’t care.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I didn’t kiss you for some cameras. Is that what you think?”
No, it hadn’t been until he’d turned me down this morning. I shrugged. Lightweight and easy going. That was the name of the game. “See you later, Zeke.”
I left him sitting there and closed the door behind me. I didn’t know what game I was playing or even what the rules were, but I’d just scored points if, for no other reason, I’d let him think I could care about nothing, too. When this was over, and I went on to whatever was next, I’d have the ability to pretend better than I ever had before. And that had to count for something.
I went back to my room and climbed onto the bed.
There were more messages. Hope and Bridget had both answered, and of course one more for Justin. The truth was that I deserved Kit’s anger. Maybe I’d been wrong in assuming his feelings for me were as negative as mine were for him. Maybe I had hurt him a lot. I’d embarrassed him, that was for sure. But it wasn’t like he’d come to find me and ask me what had happened. It wasn’t as though he’d begged me to give us another chance.
I’d take his abuse. I deserved it. However, Justin was a mystery. Why was he doing this to me?
You’ve always thought you were better than the rest of us.
I laughed, but it wasn’t from amusement. I wasn’t better than anyone. I was just the opposite. The one who couldn’t find her way, even with pointed directions.
I lay down on the bed. Was gravity somehow suddenly stronger?
It felt like it was going to push me over, keep me from being upright ever again. I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow. I’d just stay like this until I had to get beautiful for dinner again.
That was my role in life after all.
A knock sounded, and the door opened before I could say come in. What was the point of knocking? I managed to roll over to see Zeke standing in the door frame.
“I want to talk about what you just said.”
I groaned. “Okay.”
“I…” His voice trailed off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I grabbed the pillow and covered my face with it. So much for my little win a minute ago. He was going to lay into me now, and I was going to take it because I didn’t want to go back to New York yet. Those were my choices. Here. Or New York.
The bed sagged where he must have sat down on it next to me. “Layla?”
I moved the pillow. “My brother.”
“What about him?” Zeke’s voice was hard. “What is he doing to you? He’s already abandoned you in Paris, leaving you penniless after stealing from you.”
I wanted to groan again, but that wasn’t an answer. Instead, I handed him my phone. He could see all the things that everyone sent me and that was fine. I had no secrets. Nothing I was saying to Hope or Bridget was anything I shouldn’t. I was keeping our deal just fine.
He stared at it for a second, looking at Justin’s message, his jaw hardening while he did. A second or two later he swiped his finger over it, and I had no idea who he was looking at now. I closed my eyes. Let him have at my phone.
“Just give me a few minutes to collect myself, and then I’ll start to get pretty enough to go to dinner. I need to put this away wherever I shove these things inside of me for my future nervous breakdown.”