Page 7 of When I Had You

I breathe a sigh of relief. “I like that.”

“I need to go, but let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thank you, Lauren.”

“Bye.” She hangs up, leaving me staring at my cracked screen. At least it still works. For now.

I look out the window at crowded beaches, shops, and blue skies. Everything is sunshine down here, which lies in stark comparison to the cloudy days of my life up north right now.

The destruction of my life isn’t out for public consumption yet, but there are plenty of people behind the scenes who are already well aware of what’s going on with me, him, and the wardrobe girl he had sex with. This story is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, my life and career being hit the hardest. It’s not fair.

It’s not fair to be the one left to pick up the pieces after the mess he created because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Instead of admitting that we’re not a match made in heaven, which I would have agreed, he had sex with someone located only two trailers down from me.

I didn’t know someone could be so cruel. Now I do.

And Lauren is right. Happiness is the best way to retaliate, even if I need to force myself to fake it. I can do what I need to. I’m a professional. I just hope I packed a revenge dress in my suitcase.

I’ll make him swallow his pride, and he’ll beg to take me back when he sees me. It will be too late, but fun like that tenth birthday party and the go-karts.

Cash comes to mind. The grump.

I have no idea why it was so fun annoying him, but I enjoyed it more than I probably should have.

As soon as the car pulls up to the hotel, I head to my room on a mission.

Before talking to Lauren, I planned to attend the family dinner and then have a quiet night in, bingeing movies where the hero dies. But maybe, just in case I’m in the mood, I’ll go out instead.

A night out is beginning to sound a lot more appealing. Might as well have a little fun like Corbin did. I text a few friends to see who’s in town for a good time since I can’t think of a better place to let loose than in Miami.

3

Marina

This dress will knock men dead. I just wish one of them was my ex . . .

Running my hand over the bare skin of my sides and lower over my hips covered in beads of the short dress, I take one last look in the mirror before sucking in a breath and grabbing my purse on my way out.

My dad and brothers won’t be as impressed, but hopefully, I’ll garner support from my mom and sisters-in-law. They usually have my back when it comes to how I dress or at least soften the blow for those who tend to still see me as the baby in the family.

Which I suppose I am, although I’m twenty-six and fully grown.

Cheated on, my dream job pulled out from under me, pivoted in my career, and I remain the only Westcott still flying solo. It seems I’ve earned almost all the stripes of adulthood in the past two years alone.

I don’t know why I’m nervous. Dressing for dinner with my family like I’m going dancing might be causing me to feel anxious, though I know the thought of the breakup being splashed across the web at any time is most likely the culprit.

The paparazzi could be hanging around South Beach as we speak. It’s P1 race weekend. The place is crawling with internationally known celebrities, and I could end up being caught in the crossfire of photos.

I love the dress and feel sexy in it. And since I saw a text from Lauren that Corbin is partying with buddies in Vancouver looking a lot like he doesn’t have a care in the world, I can do the same. It’s all going to work out how it’s meant to. I take a breath and punch the elevator button.

Her text might have been why I changed from a black dress with ruffle sleeves to this pale blue little number with the ice beads that catch the light and every flash within twenty feet of me. That it only reaches the middle of my thighs is what has me wondering if I should have waited until after dinner to change into it.

I’m admiring my sexy silver shoes in the reflection of the elevator when the doors open. I feel lighter for the first time in days, maybe even months, empowered by my newfound freedom.

Until I’m met with green eyes locked on mine and a rogue smile that would make me weak in the knees if the man sporting it didn’t grate on my nerves. I restrain an eye roll as I step inside the elevator with him. I’m quick to turn my back and rapid-fire punch the lobby button several times as if that will get us to the lobby any faster.

“Ms. Westcott.” He says my name like a dirty word . . . one he’d say in bed if he were trying to seduce me. He’s not, and that deep voice that probably drives the girls wild won’t work on me.

“Mr. Ryan,” I grit through my teeth. The little teasing is just enough to make me peek up to see if that smirk remains settled on his face.

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