Page 65 of Hook Up

Blinking back tears, I end the call.

I know this is the last time I’ll see Ryder, save for any dates with his lawyer, but at least he’ll know what was in my heart.

It’s all I ever had to give him, but apparently, it wasn’t enough.

Not by a long shot.

I peel my eyes open as the sun streams through my blinds, a headache blasting through my skull.

I rarely drink—a glass of wine here or there—but any plans for sobriety flew out the window last night, after discovering Ryder with Mandi.

To top off an already banner evening, there weren’t any available seats back to New York, so here I am, in a somewhat seedy motel, a bottle of vodka by my side with a quarter of the contents missing.

No wonder my damn head feels like it’s going to explode.

Unfortunately, I have to get my ass up and moving. I snagged a flight back to Long Island this afternoon, and at the rate I’m going, it will take until boarding for me to feel human again.

Never mind my aching heart. I’ll deal with her later… or not at all, as is my modus operandi.

Stumbling into the shower, I scald my body into submission, before sucking down a cup of coffee that ranks right up there with hospital brew.

But I barely taste the acrid liquid, my eyes instead glued to the television set. It’s almost race time, and the crowd is gearing up to cheer on their favorite hometown hero. When the cameras scan the packed stands, I wonder if Mandi is there, rooting for her man.

He doesn’t need me as a cheerleader, he’s got her. Besides, I’m far more tempted to shove a pom-pom up his ass than wish him well at this point. Nothing too severe, perhaps a case of noxious gas to liven up his rekindled romance with Mandi.

My thoughts drift back to our weekend in Vegas when Ryder first proposed this cockamamie idea. He needed the good press, or so he claimed. Seems the truth was, he wanted to spark Mandi’s jealousy.

In that regard, I suppose I served my purpose. A few well-placed articles about Ryder with another woman and his ex is eating out of the palm of his hand.

Could he have hired the paparazzi to stand outside that restaurant? Was that why he kissed me so openly? The events muddle together, and I can’t make truth of any of them, save one.

My deal with Ryder ended the moment Mandi walked back into his life.

I still don’t know why he asked me to marry him. I wasn’t going to pressure him into any sort of commitment. Not my style. I expected we would go our separate ways once our sojourn to Barbados ended. Instead, he dropped to one knee and asked me to spend my life with him. Have a ton of babies with him. Be with him.

Me, being the lovesick fool, saw hearts and rainbows and screamed yes. For me, it was the greatest moment of my life. For Ryder, it was a well-executed plan, knowing that if him being with another woman raised Mandi’s ire, him marrying one would send her into a tailspin.

Finding out the marriage wasn’t real has certainly sentmeinto one.

What other reason could he have? Obviously not love, as evidenced by his recent rendezvous with Mandi.

So, instead of a few fond memories of incredible sex on a tropical island, I now get to finagle a deal with his lawyer to earn back my independence.

This is why I never fall in love.

Love stinks.

One thing is for certain, his rich ass is footing the bill for any legal costs related to this annulment. I’ve wasted enough time and tears on the man.

A tear slides down my cheek, cutting through my emotional armor and revealing the caustic pain simmering under the surface. I hate what he did to me—the mind games, making me believe in him, making me believe in love. But what I hate most is how real it felt. Every look, every touch, felt genuine.

I’ve never met a man like that. A talented player in every sense of the word, both on and off the track.

With a grunt, I turn off the television. No point in watching the race, watching his beautiful, lying face light up when he wins yet again.

I have my own business to attend to—namely to finish packing and then beg my boss to take me back in that hellhole of a position I was so overjoyed to escape. I loved the patients but the mismanagement of the clinic made working there like the seventh level of hell, and that was on agoodday.

Then I get the added fun of finding a place to live since I sublet my apartment to a friend’s cousin for the remainder of my lease.

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