Page 60 of The Billionaire's Cinderella

“She and I have always been, ah, friendly. We’ve stayed in touch,” I say.

“And in bed, you said.”

She gives me the sort of hard stare that I didn’t know her sweet eyes could produce. That stare makes my blood run cold and my balls shrivel. Even so, it never occurs to me to be anything other than completely honest with her.

“From time to time, yeah. Never since you and I got together, though.”

She believes me, thank God. I can tell by the way her mouth softens.

“I’m trying not to be a possessive stalker girlfriend. That’s not me.”

“Of course it’s not you.”

She opens her mouth. Hesitates.

“If you want to have lunch with your ex-wife, you’re allowed to have lunch with your ex-wife, Ryker. I don’t own you. We’re not married.”

The M-word raises the stakes and adds an additional layer of emotion to the conversation. At least on my side.

“That’s the thing.” A sudden wave of nerves makes my voice gruff and forces me to clear my throat. “The two of us have been in and out of each other’s lives. Including when we were dating other people. It had nothing to do with love. It was just…sex. Familiarity. Habit. Don’t look at me like that. I’m being honest.”

She nods, her expression stony.

“I’ve mostly avoided her since you and I got together, hoping she’d take the hint. She hasn’t taken the hint.”

“Probably because she’s still in love with you.”

I shrug. “I’m with you now. My future is with you. That’s what I plan to tell her.”

My hope is that Ella will zero in on the part about our shared future, but the wind isn’t blowing in my favor today. But then I knew that the second Ella canceled on me, didn’t I?

“I just want to make sure you don’t say anything you don’t mean,” she says. “To either of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, frowning. “Are you suggesting I’m still in love with her without my knowledge?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

It’s impossible to miss the note of bitterness in her voice. It’s like a purple elephant weighing two tons walked into the room and took a shit on the rug. That note sends a chill up my spine. I suddenly feel like I need to request backup to get myself out of this mess.

“Can we sit down, at least?” I ask, buying time to get my words right, because this is beginning to feel like the most important conversation of my life.

“Yeah,” she says dully, waving at the sofa. “Of course.”

I sit. She sits. A gorge opens on the sofa between us.

She waits, her expression politely neutral.

“Ella. I’m positive I’m not still in love with my ex-wife. And I feel like something else is going on here. Why didn’t you tell me what it is so we can both be on the same page?”

She opens her mouth right away, but it takes her a long time to get the words out. “I found out this afternoon that my ex got engaged to his ex.”

Wait, what? Her ex?

Fuck.

Can a person suffer from complete cardiac arrest while remaining conscious?

“And you realized you’re still in love with him,” I say, my worst fear.

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