Page 98 of Hook Up

I feel him watching me in the dark, and I know he’s weighing whether to push the issue or leave it alone. When he moves from the bed to the bathroom, I relax.

He’ll leave me be for the rest of the night.

“Shit, my head hurts.” Ryder stumbles into the kitchen, shooting me a smile.

I don’t smile back. In fact, I’m tempted to chuck my laptop at his handsome head after seeing all the photos of him floating around the internet. There are oodles of them from the night before—Ryder and his celebrity racing pals at some upscale Charlotte nightclub, women hanging off them.

One woman, in particular, catches my attention.

“How’s Mandi?” I snap, sliding the aspirin bottle in his direction with far more force than necessary.

Ryder’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. Sorry, bud, pictures really are worth a thousand words. “Why are you asking about Mandi? Beautiful, I’m so sorry about last night.” He wraps his arms around my waist, but I shove him off, motioning toward the laptop.

“How nice that Mandi knew where you were. How sweet that you had time to flirt with countless women, but no time to call me and cancel our plans.”

His face drops when he sees the photos. “Shit. They were fans, excited about the news.”

“Their breasts look very excited. I suppose that’s why they needed to shove them in your face. Are you always this up and personal with your fans? With your ex?”

Ryder throws up his hands to ward off my verbal onslaught. “I didn’t touch my ex. I was shocked when she showed up. Greer, it looks bad, but nothing happened. You know me.”

“Do I?” His face falls when I utter the question that’s been spinning in my brain for the last day. “You’ve had your sight back for less than twenty-four hours and in that time you’ve stood me up, called off our wedding announcement, stayed out all hours drinking and openly flirted with”—I poke the screen, my nail clicking against the glass—“at least four women. Excuse me,fans. So no, Ryder, I don’t think I know you at all.”

He leans against the counter, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “We were celebrating. I know it got out of hand and I never meant to hurt you, but this is a big deal. I would hope you’d understand.”

Good, now it’s my fault. I know this trick. My father played it on my mother for months before he left.

“I know it’s a big deal. It’s huge. But it’s sadly amusing how you regain your sight and lose sight of me. Where were all your fancy friends these last several weeks? No one, save for Colton, came to check on you.”

“I didn’t want them around. I didn’t want anyone around.”

“You didn’t want me around, either, but I wasn’t going to let you go through that alone. When someone you love is hurting, you help them. When they’re down, you pick them up. Even when they push you away, you push back. That’s love, Ryder.” Swiping the tears from my eyes, I stand, not wanting to go any further down this conversation path.

That he celebrated, and it wasn’t with me, speaks volumes. But unlike my mother, I won’t stick around and be played as a fool again and again. I have my pride.

Ryder pulls me to him, setting me on his lap, his gaze soft. “I was an asshole. Don’t think, for one second, that I’ve forgotten who was there for me every single day.”

“You already have.”

He presses kisses to my hair, holding me fast against him. “Give me one more chance? I want to take you somewhere tonight, somewhere really special. We’ll have our celebration.”

I’m fairly certain he didn’t cheat on me and that he is remorseful for his actions the night before. But Ryder’s behavior—his egocentric, devil may care attitude—wounds me. To him, it’s an oversight. One I should forgive.

To me, it’s three strikes in less than twenty-four hours, each one proving I don’t have a place in his world.

“I don’t know, Ryder. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

That smile of his. I hate how endearingly sheepish it makes him. “Don’t say no. Trust me, I’m making it up to you.”

He’s not lying about the restaurant. It screams money—money I don’t have—not that Ryder would ever let me pay, regardless.

I’ll give it to the man, he’s generous with his funds. I witnessed that in Vegas and it hasn’t changed.

We’re seated at a private table, and Ryder is intent on ordering us everything on the menu.

“The food here is amazing. Gives Manhattan restaurants a run for their money.” Ryder leans forward, stroking a lock of hair behind my ear. “You look gorgeous. I can’t believe I missed seeing your face all these weeks. Missed seeing this killer body, too.” His gaze sweeps down my length, a flirtatious wink and smile at the ready. “But not anymore.”

“Now you get to see all the imperfections, too,” I respond with a smile.

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