Page 97 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“I know. I’m amazing. You don’t deserve me. But remember my silence doesn’t apply to any female you might want to trick into marrying you by pretending you’re straight. Where you like to stick your dick is your business until you try to ruin another poor girl’s life, then all bets are off. What’s number two?”
“How serious are you about him?”
That shocks me into silence. Since when did Brad get so observant? When it becomes obvious I’m not going to say anything, Brad fills in the gap.
“We were together for three years, Kimber. I know you think I’m clueless, but even I can see that you never looked at me the way you look at him.”
Remembering the way Brad looked at me when I was walking down the aisle toward him, I suffer a pang of heartache. “Maybe someday we’ll look back on this and laugh. Maybe someday, after a few years have passed and I’ve grown scar tissue over all the holes you tore in my heart, we can be friends again. But right now I have to be honest and say it’s none of your damn business.”
“It is, though, because I care about you.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” I mutter.
“I looked him up, you know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“On the internet. I researched him.”
“Whatever you’re about to tell me, I don’t want to know.”
He snorts like he thinks I’m funny. “Liar.”
Chewing my lip, I sit up straighter in my chair and brace myself for the worst. “He’s a womanizer, right?”
“More like a monk. He hasn’t been photographed with anyone for years. According to the gossip sites, he’s obsessed with work.”
I say darkly, “Or he’s just really good at keeping secrets.”
“Not everyone has skeletons in their closets.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about closets.”
Brad laughs, sounding delighted. “Right. Oops. It’s kinda funny, though, right?”
“Sure, like an inoperable brain tumor is funny. I’m hanging up on you now.”
“Before you go, tell me when I’m doing this modeling thing for you.”
I’m instantly suspicious of his motives. “Why?”
“My mom wants to know if I’ll send her some pictures.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “You told your mother about it?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, my parents know I followed you to Italy to try to get you back.”
Of course they do. Brad’s parents always have to know his whereabouts. I used to think it was sweet they kept such close tabs on him, but now I know better. It was all about damage control.
And now I’m mad all over again.
“Tell your mother there will be tons of pictures. She won’t miss a thing.” I wish I could have a picture of her face when she sees her son in a couture gown. It still hasn’t occurred to Brad to ask me what he’ll be wearing, despite the fact that all I’ve ever made is ladies’ wear. He probably thinks I’m going into men’s fashion just for him.
“Awesome. Thanks, ba—uh, Kimber. And thanks for being so cool about everything. It really means a lot.”
Don’t thank me yet, idiot.
I hang up without saying goodbye. Then I block his number again because I have a feeling if I don’t, I’ll have thumbs-up and best friend emojis arriving via text at all hours of the day and night.
