Page 4 of Sexting the Billionaire

My thumb hovers over his name for one heartbeat, two, then decisively presses delete.

The screen asks for confirmation: Delete this contact?

"Yes," I whisper, pressing the button as the first tear escapes. "Yes, I absolutely fucking do."

Only when his number has vanished do I allow the sobs to come, alone in my car with the dress that cost too much and the lingerie no one will see, mourning not just the relationship I've lost but the one I thought I had all along.

2

CASSIE

Idon't remember driving to Olivia's apartment.

One minute I'm sobbing outside Velluto, mascara turning my vision into an impressionist painting. The next I'm at her door, clutching my purse and feeling like I might shatter if anyone speaks too loudly.

Olivia takes one look at me and wordlessly steps aside. That's why she's been my best friend since freshman year of college—she knows when words would just be noise.

"He broke up with me," I say, my voice sounding alien to my own ears. "At our anniversary dinner."

Her apartment is the antithesis of Camden's minimalist aesthetic—vivid throw pillows in clashing patterns, vintage movie posters, and mismatched furniture that somehow works together perfectly. It's like my personality threw up all over her living room, which makes sense since that’s the only place I could ever truly be myself.

"That weasel-faced piece of garbage." Olivia heads toward her kitchen. "Wine emergency. Red or white?"

"Both?" I sink onto her couch, kicking off my too-expensive heels. The ones I'd spent forty-five minutes deciding on because Camden once said he liked how my calves looked in stilettos.

"Both it is." She returns with two bottles and mismatched glasses—one an actual wine glass, the other a juice tumbler with Snoopy on it. "Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out."

So I do. I tell her about the reservation, the dress, the makeup. About how I'd practiced my surprised face in the mirror like a complete idiot. About the toothbrush he'd brought along, the casual cruelty of having planned every detail while I'd been planning forever.

Three generous glasses later, I'm pacing her living room, words tumbling faster.

"And he said I was 'comfortable,'" I hiss, practically spitting the word. "Predictable. Like I'm a goddamn couch or a TV show that's gone on too long."

Olivia refills Snoopy. "Men like Camden mistake their own boredom for your inadequacy. It's their favorite magic trick—turning their failures into your flaws."

"Two years, Liv. Two years of me folding myself smaller and smaller to fit into his perfect life." I gulp more wine, welcoming the burning sensation. "Do you know how many design ideas I never showed him because they were 'too much'? How many times I toned down my portfolio before asking his opinion?"

My phone buzzes. Mia. Shit. I'd promised to call her after dinner.

"It's my sister. She thinks he proposed tonight." My laugh sounds dangerously close to a sob.

"Let me tell her," Olivia offers, already reaching for my phone.

"No, I should." I take a deep breath and answer. "Hey, Mia."

"Well?" Mia practically screeches into the phone. "I've been waiting forhours! Show me the ring! Is it the emerald-cut one I sent him? Did he get down on one knee? Tell meeverything!"

Her excitement is like a knife to my chest.

Words fail me.

"Cassie?" Her voice shifts from elation to concern. "What happened?"

"He broke up with me." The words come out flat now, the shock giving way to a hollow feeling. "He said he's outgrown me."

"That rat-faced, trust-fund, mediocre excuse for a man didwhat?" Mia's voice rises so sharply I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Breathe, Mia. I'm okay." The lie comes automatically. Big sister instinct. Protect her from the mess.

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