Page 41 of Bookworm and the Beast
“Did you propose?”
“I was working up to it. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel likewewere ready. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m just not capable of needing someone like that. But I didn’t want to lose her, either. I guess I thought we’d just stay together until the time felt right.”
“Sometimes our instincts tell us to move slowly for a reason. Sometimes listening to them is the smartest thing we can do.” Bonnie looked thoughtful. “Did you love her?”
Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I cast my gaze toward the sky. “I don’t know. I think so. Shesaidshe loved me. Then a friend texted me a picture he took of her out in the harbor of the yacht club on the deck of some old, rich, European guy’s yacht and said they lookedverycozy. When I confronted her, she lied about everything, explained it away and made me question things I’d seen with my own eyes. I actually apologized toher.”
I dropped my face and shook my head, still unable to believe my own stupidity. “When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. So was the outline. I did end up talking to her a few weeks after it all went down. She said she’d gotten tired of waiting, that she deserved someone who could commit—likePhillipe.She said I was… what were her words? Sushi. Cold Fish.”
Bonnie wrinkled her nose. “I hate sushi. You’re a lot of things, Jack Bestia.Coldis not one of them. Sounds like a flimsy justification for infidelity to me.”
“Ah, heck it’s probably true. I’m no good at relationships.” I swiped my hand through the air, ready to be done with the subject. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. It’s old history, and it’s boring. Let’s talk about you again. Got any more interesting skeletons in your closet?”
Bonnie ignored my attempt at frivolity. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Jack. Really. That’s a terrible way for a three-year relationship to end, and her putting all the blame on you stole your ability to even grieve its passing.”
The statement was so heartfelt, so sincere. She wasn’t offering pity. She was just telling me she was sorry for my loss.
“Thank you,” I said and returned her genuine smile with one of my own.
“I dated a guy like that a few years ago,” Bonnie said. “He was never wrong. He seemed to think his money absolved him of any and all blame, no matter how despicable his actions were. Looking back on it now, I think he was a clinical narcissist.”
“So… he was wealthy,” I prompted, feeling a primitive surge of competitiveness.
She rolled her eyes. “Ridiculously wealthy. And he made sure everyone knew it.”
Something in her tone made me uneasy. Though it shouldn’t have mattered to me what Bonnie thought of her ex—or of men with money—for some reason, it did.
“Is it rich guys that bother you… or money in general that you hate?”
Her eyes rolled up, and she tilted her head to the side, as if thinking about it. “I guess money can come in pretty handy. I know I could use a raise. But my experience so far with billionaires has been, how should I put it? A little off-putting.”
Her bright laughter kept the remark from feeling insulting. And what could I say, my behavior yesterdayhadbeen pretty repellent.
I laughed, too. “Touché.”
Bonnie’s expression sobered. “You must have been devastated when the outline was released to the public.”
“To say the least. I lost my girlfriend and my book all in one fell swoop.”
Not to mention my faith in humanity.
“So then… well, I know we agreed no spoilers, so you don’t have to answer this,” she said, her tone hesitant. “Did you end up changing the story from that outline? Because you told the media it was a fake.”
She’d just said I didn’t have to answer. But I found myself wanting to. I’d never told anyone but Hunter and Mrs. Potts just how much damage Claudia had done with her vengeful act.
I felt like Bonnie would really get it. Though she was still pre-published, she was a writer, too. And she was so open, so honest with her feelings and about her own life.
Besides, she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement, so what would it hurt?
“Yeah, I tossed the whole thing. I had no choice. And it nearly killed me because it was perfect—or at least as perfect as any story plan can be.”
“Wow. That is incredible.”
Her face was painted with distress, warm brown eyes offering all the sympathy I could have hoped for. “So that means you had to start all over again, come up with a new ending, new storylines for all the characters.”
Since I hadn’t actuallydonethat yet, all I did was nod and say, “That’s what it means.”
It was truthful, if not the entire truth. I liked this girl, but shewasstill with the media. I couldn’t let her know how thoroughly screwed I was.
