Page 93 of Playboy Boss

Chapter Thirty-Four

Scottie stayed in bed all Saturday crying. Wailing, actually. Tara could have easily mistaken her for giving birth. Yeah, it was pretty pathetic, but her heart was broken. It had never been broken before, not like this. Not by a man she loved. The one man she’d loved without loyalty was her father, and that hadn’t fared well her whole life.

But she’d been so close. She’d seen what it was like to fall for someone. The high was so sweet and vast. The low, on the other hand, was pure devastation. She wanted so much to experience the high again, but that meant the low would always be a possibility.

A knock at her bedroom door took her from her thoughts. She wiped her face against her soggy pillow, moist with tears and snot from her crying sessions.

“Scott?” Tara opened the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She cried again, hugging her pillow. God, she needed to stop this. It wasn’t like she’d lost her life. Well, it kind of was that way, in a dramatic sense.

“Oh, Scottie.” Tara went to her and sat on her bed. She patted Scottie’s back. “Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?” She peered up at Tara from the pillow.

“Torturing yourself.”

“I’m getting over a breakup.” She wiped her eyes and sat up. “This really sucks. I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah. Breakups suck,” said Tara. She shook her head, and Scottie remembered she’d broken up with Brett a week ago.

“I guess we’re in the same boat,” said Scottie. She stared at her friend, who seemed totally okay. “How are you handling it so well?”

“Because Brett is a complete jackass.” Tara’s forehead creased, her lips pressed together in a line.

Scottie crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are men such jackasses?”

“They aren’t.” Tara leaned back on her arm, rubbing her stomach.

Scottie scoffed. “Name one.” Would she ever meet a man who wanted to stay? Who wanted to be loyal and not sleep around? Did that man even exist?

“Konrad.”

Her eyes snapped to Tara’s, who was not going to retract her statement. “Umm. What?”

“Konrad is not a jackass.” Tara lifted her eyebrows. “I kind of think you’re the jackass in this scenario.”

Scottie felt like her friend had hit her in the face with a dodge ball. “Excuse me? Did you not pay attention? Did you not understand I was seventh on a hookup list for September?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You were seventh. I heard.” Tara rolled her eyes. What had gotten into her? Scottie didn’t know whether to kick her out in anger or cry more.

This wasn’t fair. None of it.

“He’s a player. You were right.” Scottie’s temperature rose. “And now you’re saying this? What the hell?”

Tara shrugged. “I cringed to see that man beg you for forgiveness.”

“As he should!” Scottie wasn’t wrong here.

“No.” She shook her head. “He didn’t have to do any of it. Come over. Beg you at our door. Offer you your grandmother’s brooch and then basically get on his hands and knees and beg again at his own surprise birthday party—in front of his friends, no less.”

Scottie dropped her gaze to her pillow. She couldn’t look at Tara. She couldn’t allow herself to see it from that perspective. He had bared himself. Painfully. And she had rejected him harshly. But she’d been hurt, devastated. What else could she have done to protect herself?

“Do you have any idea how many men would say ‘oh, well’ and move on without another thought?” asked Tara. She glanced at her hand. “Do you know how many men would ghost out, never to be heard from again?”

Scottie knew this from some extent by watching her mother’s struggles. There were times her mother had been too depressed to cook because of a breakup. Why wouldn’t Scottie want to stay alone after witnessing her mother’s pain?

“I don’t think I know a guy who would give up a Mercedes for me, Scottie.”

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