Page 135 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“I mean it. You think Hugo wants to be that way?”

“You think he doesn’t?”

“Of course not, Stella; it’s a compulsion. And look what it’s costing him—he clearly loves you, and this thing you two have going is jeopardized now.”

“But is it enough that he doesn’t want to be like that? I don’t know if it’s enough.” I tell him about the first-kiss fight and give a G-rated version of the elevator-sex fight. I tell him about the Salvador Dali restaurant, which he finds hilarious, but it’s not funny to me. “Hugo was a champ to go, but he was barely tolerating it. I’ve been on the receiving end of being barely tolerated. It feels like poison in your veins. I’ve been there.”

“That would be awful.”

“It is,” I whisper.

“Don’t forget, I met that Jonathan a few times. He never looked at you the way Hugo does. He turned out hyper-critical, but this is Hugo. Can’t you give him a chance to do better?”

“But what about the thing where everyone says you’re not supposed to go into a relationship wanting to change the person?”

This seems to stump Charlie, and he folds his carton some more.

“Even reality can’t live up to his high standards,” I add.

“I get it, Stella. But when I burst in on you two at his apartment, you know what I saw? A man who had your back.”

I smush my stub of pretzel around, sopping up the last bits of salt and mustard, remembering how nice that was. We felt like a team. Hugo and me against the world.

* * *

Kelsey’s been cryingwhen I get home. Not actively, but there are mascara tracks.

I sit down with her and make her spill all. The man she’s been dating broke up with her, and it wasn’t enough to tell her he didn’t want to date anymore; he had to inform her that the reason was that she looked and acted like a hooker, and it was too much for him.

“Oh my god! Fuck him! I love your style!” I tell her. “Everybody loves your style!”

“Not him,” she says. “He thinks I’m trashy!”

“To hell with him!” I say.

“I think your mom thought so, too.”

“My mom likes prairie dresses with lace collars. She’s practically Amish.” I make her show me his Instagram. I want to punch him through my phone so bad. I point out what an unbelievably boring loser he looks like.

We find a picture where he’s got a fish on the end of a fishing pole.

“Are you even kidding me?” I say. “A fishing pole pic. This is what he put on his profile.”

“Oh my god,” Kelsey says. “How did I not see this?”

We make pink barbie cocktails and popcorn and laugh about the fishing pic.

After the third drink, we make each other Taylor Swift eras bracelets. I think she’s feeling a little bit better, but some insults cut clear to the bone.

I so want to punch the guy.

ChapterFifty-Seven

Stella

“Hey.”Lola’s at my desk. “I’m supposed to grab you for note-taking. Wulfric’s instructions. Right now up on ten.”

“Is this Hugo’s data model presentation?”

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