Page 73 of Myself

“He hung up on me,” I say in shock.

“Of course, he did. He thinks you’re taking her side.”

I look at him and narrow my eyes. “I’m not taking sides. I’m just trying to get him to see what is happening here. She wasn’t cheating on him.”

“I could call him ...?”

“No,” I say, shutting his idea down. He throws his hands up in the air.

“I’m just offering to help.” He sighs.

I run a hand through my hair. “I know. Thank you.” But now is the worst time for Ryder to find out about us.

“Just so you know, he’s gonna be calling me.” I snort at his crazy thought, but his phone rings. I look down at where I put it on the bed, and his screen lights up with Ryder. I cross my arms over my chest.

He picks it up. “I won’t tell him I’m here.” Then he hits answer. “What’s up, man?” He nods his head a few times. “Yeah, sure.” He looks at the clock on my nightstand. “Two hours? Perfect. Okay. See you then.” He hangs up and looks at me. “Your brother asked me to go out for drinks.” I huff. “Now that he and Ashlyn are no longer together, he’s gonna wanna spend all his free time with me.”

No longer together? I hate how that sounds. I hate that he hurt Ashlyn. No matter how much she tries to deny it, she fell for him just as hard as he did for her. “Well, thankfully he doesn’t have much of that,” I say.

He grabs my hand and pulls me down on the bed. I let out a huff as my back hits it, and he props himself up on his left arm as he lifts his right hand to push hair from my face. “You do understand what this means, right?”

I sigh, looking up into his light brown eyes. “What?”

“It means he’s gonna find someone else to get over Ashlyn with.”

My eyes widen. “What makes you say that?”

“That’s what men do.” Then he tilts his head to the side in thought, his warm hand now cupping my cheek. “I’m sure women do it too, but I can’t speak for them.”

I shake my head, knocking his hand off. “He can’t start seeing someone else.”

He frowns down at me. “I’m talking about sex, babe.”

I sit up quickly, and he pulls away from me. “We can’t let that happen either.”

He runs a hand through is hair. “You can’t keep him from sleeping with someone else unless you come out and tell him what happened here.”

I hang my head. “He won’t even talk to me. The moment I mentioned her name, he got defensive. And you can’t tell him ...”

“I won’t tell him what I saw, but I can urge him to try to fix it,” he offers.

I nod. “Please.”

“I’ll do my best,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “But I can’t make any promises.” He gets up from the bed, and I stare up at him as a thought hits me.

“Who did you find to get over me?”

He was running a hand through his hair, but it pauses at my question, and his eyes meet mine. “I never got over you.”

I slowly get off the bed. That’s not what I asked. “How many?” I ask needing to know.

“Does it matter?” He frowns at my question.

“It does to me,” I say honestly.

He finishes running his hand through is hair. “It’s not like I kept count.”

“Guess,” I say as my chest tightens. Why does it matter? Do I just want to torture myself?

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