Page 2 of Mess With Me
He moved closer and admired her cleavage. “For old times’ sake.”
She frowned, her heart sinking somewhere in the vicinity of her perfectly smooth ankles. “You said to bring my dancing shoes—”
“We’ll be dancing all right. The horizontal monkey dance.” He waggled his eyebrows. “In the sheets,” he added as if she might’ve missed his sleazy reference.
“I thought—” she nearly choked on her anger, on the complete mismatch of their expectations “—I thought you were remembering how good we were together. I thought this was a fresh start.”
“Ally.” His condescending tone cut deep. “You know I love you, but I don’tloveyou. Understand? I’m not into you inthat way. I just thought we could have a little fun.”
The breath knocked right out of her. Notthat way? She sucked in air, her heart thundering in her ears, her hands icy. She struggled to comprehend. They’d been together for four years, madly in love. “How could it not bethat way?”
He gave her a sympathetic look that twisted the knife in her gut. “Things changed.” He waved at someone over her shoulder. “Olivia!” He turned back to her with a warm smile. “Great to see you, Ally. Take care.”
Then he left, heading over to Olivia, a gorgeous woman in a tight pale lavender dress with black fuck-me stilettos.
She stood there for a full minute in total shock, shaky and cold, so very cold. How many women had he texted to reconnect with at this event? Her gut churned.
His laugh reached her, where he was holding Olivia’s hand, walking out with her. Probably to go to his room for a “little fun.”
She couldn’t bear it. She did an about-face, walked out of the ballroom, down the hallway, and straight to the ladies’ room.
Unfortunately, there was a line out the door. Dammit, could this night get any worse?
She headed across the hall to the empty men’s room and hid inside a stall. Why had she built this up in her mind? This wasn’tfate. This was total BS. Her fury both at herself for her ridiculously high hopes and him for being such aguyquickly morphed to tears. She gave in to a good cry, still holding her spiked punch, and carefully not touching the toilet.
Promise me you’ll think things through before jumping into another relationship.Her mom’s voice in her head just made her cry harder. After her almost wedding to Mark, Ally had promised her mom she’d be less impulsive. Like mother, like daughter. Her mom had been impulsive, jumping in with both feet with the wrong man, and ended up single and pregnant with Ally’s oldest sister, Serena. Things had worked out for her mom eventually with Ally’s dad, who loved Serena like his own daughter, but it could’ve been a much more difficult situation. One that easily could’ve happened to Ally as well. Not meant to be—not then and not now.
She tried to get a full breath and ended up with a hiccupping gasp, the tears still flowing. Her love life could not be more sucky. All this time she’d told herself she’d avoid the heartache her mom had endured by finding the perfect prince for her happy-ever-after. That blind faith in a happy ending had brought her to this moment, forgiving and forgetting with Dean, allowing him into her heart a second time. She had to stop living in this romantic fantasy world, impulsively jumping in, heart on her sleeve. It didn’t help her avoid the pain of heartbreak. If anything, it made things a thousand times worse. Real life didn’t work that way.
Believing in the fairy tale was a dead end.
The truth of that hit her like a slap. She took a deep shuddering breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
I need a new direction.The quiet certainty of her inner voice gave her a brief moment of calm.
Someone came in. Shit. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice her. Of course, if they looked under the stall, they might see her cute red pumps. She held her breath as the guy did his business and then washed his hands. That was nice. She appreciated a guy who washed his hands; they didn’t all do that. Her ex-fiancé hadn’t. Dean did. A small sob escaped.
Shiny black shoes approached her stall. He knocked.
She froze, not even breathing.
“Do you need some assistance, ma’am?” he asked in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar and cop-like.
Her voice came out small. “No, I’m okay.”
“Are you aware you’re in the men’s room?”
She laughed and then choked on a sob. “Yes. The ladies’ room had a line.” She dashed at her eyes, but the tears were back with a vengeance. So much buildup for this reunion of lost love and all she got was a good cry in the men’s room with a witness to her humiliation.
“Are you crying, ma’am? Has someone hurt you? I’m a police officer. I can help.”
She knew he sounded cop-like. She peeked through the crack next to the door. Ethan Case, looking tough and capable and concerned.
She opened the door and stepped out. “Hi, Ethan.”
“Ally!” He took in her no doubt ruined makeup, her tearstained face (she was not a pretty crier), and the drink she still held in her hand. “What happened?”
She was way beyond social niceties at this distress level and told him exactly what was wrong. “The usual, complete and utter annihilation of the heart.” She tossed back her punch, crumpled the plastic cup and tossed it in the garbage.
