Page 24 of Free Agent

This man who was not the one who put the ring on my finger.

And my stomach was about to turn inside out.

Suddenly, I was very glad I hadn’t even ended up having that dinner—or any more to drink—because surely it would’ve all been spilled out on the floor.

Trying to avoid an awkward moment, and catch my damn breath, I moved past Tatum to the large picture window that anchored the room, staring out at the view of Blackwood.

Very similar to the view I should’ve had with my meal.

If only I hadn’t caught my fiancé sharing a meal with another woman.

Today of all days.

I pulled out my phone, staring at the notifications on the screen.

None from him.

Trifling mothe—oh, shit.

I’d muted him.

Oh yeah.

Heat flushed my skin as I navigated fully into my messaging app, into the special area for people who’d been put on ice.

Oh.

Seventeen texts.

All from him.

Apologies.

Blame.

Soothing.

Promises.

More blame.

Apologies again.

More promises.

Bigger promises.

I blew out a sigh.

The thing was… I actually—stupidly, probably—believed the apologies.

I believed he didn’t want to hurt me.

Believed he was sorry that he did.

Just… not enough to… not do the shit.

It was sick.

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