Page 23 of Corrupted Pleasure
“Stupid,” I mumbled. “I’m so stupid.”
I shouldn’t have lost my temper so badly. I always kept a tight rein on it. Maybe it was a combination of being sexually frustrated, betrayed, and furious.
“No, you’re not stupid,” Wynter took my hand and shook it gently. “Don’t you even say it. He’s a cheating, dirty bastard. He’s the stupid one.”
Tears pooled in my eyes and threatened to start rolling all over again. “I was swayed by living in a nice house, by the chance to have my paycheck go towards Grandpa's retirement home costs for a place here in New York instead of Texas. When I found a corporate job here, I’d planned on bringing him here. And now…”
The worst part was that I wasn’t even in love with Garrett. We’d dated on and off for over a year, and with college nearing its end, it made sense to talk about the next steps. Going back to Texas was an option, but I’d have to take a job at a diner or a bar as a waitress. In Port Aransas options were limited. The little fisherman's dream town on the Gulf Coast was a haven for anglers and beachgoers, as well as retirees. It was a great place to grow up, but when it came to applying my Yale degree, not so much.
But with a job in New York, on the other hand, I’d be able to afford to bring Grandpa here and take care of him. Just him and I, just like the old days. I’d miss the girls, though. He would too. He’d come to care for them almost as much as I did.
“So fucking stupid.” I pressed my fingers to my temples. I should have listened to my gut that warned me moving in with Garrett was wrong. I evaluated it like a business transaction. But then, I studied business because sometimes it was the only thing that made sense.
An idea shot through my brain. “What time is it?”
Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion at such an abrupt change of topic.
Wynter answered first, while Juliette and Ivy just stared confused, muttering under their breaths, “Is that a trick question?”
“It’s three o’clock,” Wynter answered, eyeing me curiously. “Why?”
“Garrett doesn’t get home until after six,” I rushed. “If we go now, we could get there, get my stuff, and be gone before he gets home.”
We shot to our feet, Juliette and Ivy grumbling we should wait for the cheating bastard to get home and then kill him. Wynter and I just rolled our eyes and pushed them towards the door hoping we’d be able to keep them under control long enough to get my stuff and get the hell out of there before Garrett got home. I never wanted to see that bastard again for as long as I lived.
CHAPTER9
Davina
Iheld my laptop and stared at the enormous living room. I was right, Garrett wasn’t home, thank God, but we had to get out of here before he showed up. We probably didn’t get all my possessions out, but we got the most important things.
The picture of my grandpa. My legal documents. Laptop. Most of my clothes.
“Don’t be sad, D,” Juliette murmured sympathetically, wrapping her arms around me.
She’d knocked me off balance and I wasn’t strong enough to support both of us so we fell backwards, the couch catching us. Thankfully.
“I’m not sad, Juliette,” I told her quietly. “I’m mad. So fucking mad, I want to burn this fucking house down. So mad, I want to cut his dick off. So mad that I could scream until my throat turns raw.”
Three heartbeats passed, the silence stretching with my admission. It was lunacy. It wasn’t me. Yet, something about this whole situation rubbed me the wrong way.
He’d sent me over fifty text messages since I caught him last night, begging me to forgive him and give him another chance. It was a mistake; he’d never do it again. Except, I was a firm believer that once you were a cheater, you’d always be a cheater. And as the hours went on and I refused to respond to him, his messages turned nasty, blaming me and calling me a cold bitch.
His last message to me was*Your parents didn’t want you. Nobody else will either.*
If there was an ounce of possibility that I’d forgive him, and there wasn’t, I certainly wouldn’t go back to him after that hit my phone. That statement hurt and he knew exactly how personally I’d take it. My parents were my sore subject.
“Then let’s burn the place down,” Juliette concluded.
I blinked my eyes. Once. Twice. Three times. “What?”
She stood up and walked over to the little mini bar. She knew where everything was in this house. She and the girls had helped me bring my stuff over.
Searching through the mini bar, she dug out three bottles of vodka.
I sighed. “This is no time for a drink, Juliette. We need to get out of here.
Juliette shook her head. “This is not to drink.”
