Page 4 of The Breakup

I made it to a chaise and collapsed with a shaky sigh, stretching out and closing my eyes. I breathed in deep the warm summer air and tried to stop both my tears and my racing thoughts. I didn’t know what to do. As far as I knew, no previous boyfriend had ever cheated on me. This was uncharted territory for me and it sucked. It sucked bad. Like, really bad. I wished I could think of a slur heinous enough, but my brain and my mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

I heard footsteps and said, “Who was it?” assuming my sister had come outside.

She didn’t answer me.

I pried my eyes open. From my position flopped on the deck chair I was at knee level with the person. Who was definitely not Sophie. My sister had been in shorts and a T-shirt. This person was wearing jeans. And it was a man. I could sense his largeness invading my space. I also knew it wasn’t Bradley. The jeans were too…rugged.

Whoever it was, I wanted him to disappear. If he was here to repair something or build something or deliver something, I was not in the loop and Sophie could deal with it.

“Bella.”

A shiver rolled over me at the sound of that masculine voice. That whiskey-smooth, seductive manly voice.

Oh, damn it all to hell and back. That voice belonged to Christian Jordan. I don’t know how I knew it wasn’t Cain, Christian’s identical twin, who realistically could be there to see Sophie. But I just knew it wasn’t. It was Christian. Because from the first moment I had laid eyes on Christian a few weeks back I had felt very female flutterings deep inside my body that were strange, intriguing, and really seriously wrong.

I would have pretended to be asleep except my eyes were already open. I glanced up at him, horrified he would see me like this, sobbing and pathetic. Of course, he had seen me throw up on my best friend the night before. And then there was this morning when I had gone to the jail looking like Morning-After Barbie, with half my acrylics missing and my hair extensions jacked to hell. I had bailed him out after he and Cain had gotten into a fight because I felt bad for being an elitist bitch to him when I was super drunk.

But I didn’t want him here, not now. Not when I still looked like ass and had just had my entire world shattered.

Yep. He was still gorgeous. And yes, he still made my vagina tingle, which was mortifying. But he was just so hot. He had broad shoulders and short dark hair and a mischievous smile. I wouldn’t be female if I wasn’t at least intrigued by a bad boy.

But his timing was terrible.

“Hi,” I said, a lifetime of manners compelling me to speak. “How are you?”

He frowned. “Are you crying?”

That irritated me beyond belief. My manners evaporated. “No, I just threw water on my face in two perfect streaks down either cheek.”

His eyebrows shot up. I wasn’t known for sarcasm or snapping at people.

But I was officially done with this day.

And yet I apologized, because that’s what I do. “I’m sorry.”

Christian squatted down and shifted closer to me. “What’s wrong, Bella?” His voice was smooth, coaxing, sympathetic.

“Nothing.” But even as I denied it, fresh tears welled up in my eyes. “Where is my sister?” I asked. “Why are you here?” And how soon could he leave? I needed to be alone with a pint of ice cream. Or maybe a half gallon. I had to get my shit together before Bradley and my dad returned from golfing.

Christian Jordan being in my personal space was not helping me pull it together.

Then he did the unthinkable. He reached out and wiped the tears off my cheeks. His touch, warm, his hands, rough, startled me. I shivered. I tried to tell him he was crossing a line, that I was fine, to get away, something. Anything. But the words died on my lips. He looked genuinely concerned and it made my throat tighten.

“I came to pay you back for the bail money. But now I’m worried about you. Are you just hungover or is it something else?”

I found my voice, sitting up so his hands fell away from my face. I needed to be more in control for this conversation. Lying down felt too intimate. Too passive. “I’m just hungover,” I lied. “I have a headache. And this is really embarrassing. I look so ugly right now.”

Basically since birth, my mother had drilled it into me that you don’t let anyone outside of family see you not put together. This was so far from put together I wasn’t even sure what to call it. Call FEMA, because I was a federal disaster.

But Christian, still squatting down so he was face-to-face with me, just shook his head. “You are the type of woman who can’t even try to be ugly. You’re fucking gorgeous, Bella, but you know that.”

I didn’t. Not now. Not when I knew my fiancé was cheating on me with Tight Ass. Not to mention Best BJ. I felt devastated, unwanted. And ugly on the inside, full of hateful and bitchy thoughts, which were foreign to me and scary. Tears welled up in my eyes again and I was horrified. “Thanks,” I managed. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m not feeling good today. Sophie can show you out.”

Hint, hint. Go away.

He pressed a wad of cash into my hand, taking my fingers and wrapping them around the bills. “Thanks again for bailing me out. I didn’t want to sit there until Monday.”

“No problem.” I was a lot of things, but a bitch wasn’t usually one of them. I wasn’t proud of my behavior the night before. “I’m sorry again for being so rude to you.”

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