Page 29 of Famous Last Words
It’s like he knows. I mean, of course he knows. He’s hot, and he knows it, that much is a given. But there’s something else in his eyes, something I can’t quite figure out, and I find myself suddenly nervous.
“Uh, yeah,” I mutter when I remember he asked me a question. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I scurry around the bed and directly to the sofa, as far from Robbie as the room will allow.
“Your phone was going off.”
Sitting down, I reach for my purse, pulling out my phone to find six missed calls and seven new messages. My brows knit together as I open the call log, but the minute I see Tadd’s name listed multiple times, my face falls.
I open his latest text, gasping at the screenshot of the picture taken of Robbie and me when we were walking out of the arena together, hand-in-hand.
Oh my God.
Tadd: What the fuck is this??
And, because I’m a sucker for punishment, I listen to his most recent voice message, immediately regretting my decision the moment I hear his slurred words.
“I guess now I know why you’ve been ignoring my calls…”
I almost laugh because no, Tadd, I’d have ignored your call if I was in jail and you were my one shot at making bail.
“What the hell is going on, Fran? I tell you I miss you, that I think we should try again, and then I see on social media that you’re… what? That you’re dating some hockey player!”He scoffs. “I know you miss me too. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at me when you walk past my office. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the low-cut tops you wear around me. You want me. Remember how good we were together, how hard I made you come when I?—”
I quickly end the message, refusing to listen to his nonsense. I delete the voice message and thefiveothers, shaking my head. Tadd talks a big game, but the truth is, I faked it every time.
I tuck my phone back into my purse and toss it onto the armchair by my jacket.
“Everything okay?”
I glance over my shoulder, finding Robbie’s gaze on me instead of the television.
“Yeah,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, staring up at the hockey game playing on the screen. It’s switched to a different game, and when I notice the score in the corner, my interest piques.
“Your old team?”
“Yep.”
Robbie’s terse with his response, so I decide not to pry, instead watching the game. I don’t know much about hockey, but I know it’s probably not great when the score is 5-0, six minutes into the third period.
“I thought the Lions won last year…” I muse out loud.
A humorless chuckle comes from the bed, and I look back at him.
“They did,” he says. “But then they released me, and their only other half-decent player is injured.”
“Ben Harris?”
When I’m met with no response, I turn again, finding Robbie looking contemplatively at me, brow furrowed. “How’d you know that?”
I snort. “As if I wasn’t going to Google you!”
He rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath.
“What happened?” I press. “I mean, why’d you hit him?”
Robbie stares at the television, his face void of all emotion, save for the slightest crease etched between his brows. He’s silent for so long, I’m convinced he’s going to ignore my question. But then he lifts one of his broad shoulders in a shrug, drags a hand through his dark hair and meets my gaze. “He deserved it.”
There’s more. I can tell. I wonder if it has anything to do with Lola Grey, but I’m not willing to ask, because he warned me never to say her name again, and if we’re going to be stuck in this hotel room together, I should probably not poke the bear. But then again, I’ve always been a nosy asshole.
“Is it to do with a certain… social media influencer?”I ask, blanching at the warning look in Robbie’s eyes.
