Page 52 of Accidentally, Scandalously Yours

This man is infuriating in his ability to argue with me. I refuse to engage in an argument with him over this. Instead, I snap, “Why are you here?”

“My guess is the same reason you are. I was invited.”

“Don’t be smart with me, Bradford. I’m not in the mood.”

“Neither am I. I was simply stating the obvious.”

Oh my God, if there is one man in the world who has the ability to ruffle me, it’s Bradford. Consider me ruffled.

“Will you be at dinner tonight?” I demand.

“Yes.”

“Breakfast tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Dinner tomorrow night?” Jenna told me all the guys will be out golfing tomorrow, so I know he won’t be at lunch.

“Kristen, I’ll be at every meal.”

I mentally start planning a flight home. One that leaves in the next hour. I knew I should have licked my wounds at home.

“I’ll stay out of your way just like I’m sure you’ll stay out of mine,” he says. I don’t miss the subtext relating to mytalent for avoidancethat he’s brought up as often as possible over the years, and I sure as hell don’t miss the arctic air filling the space between us.

“There are only fourteen of us here. You will be in my way even if you try not to be.”

He looks at me like he’s assessing the greatest problem of his day. Of his month. Of his life. “I remember a time when you would have begged for me to be in your way.”

“That time has long passed. You made sure of that.”

The slight arch of his brow drives me insane. It’s so fucking superior. “I see you’re still as good at lying to yourself as you always were.”

“And I see you’ve been sharpening your asshole skills.” How we ended up here I will never know, but Bradford is now the master when it comes to hostility and I’m always caught unawares.

He works his jaw as the chill vibrating from him turns positively freezing. “If you ask for something, Kristen, don’t be surprised when you get it.”

Ask for something?

I’m left wondering what the hell I asked for as he walks away from me. I watch his sure strides, taking in the hard set of his shoulders while I rack my brain for the answer to my question.

Everything began changing for us ten months ago. I hadn’t heard from Bradford since the night I begged him to fuck me. Then, he showed up at my condo asking me if I was ready yet. I knew instantly what he meant and I didn’t have the answer for him that he wanted. I’d done a lot of work on myself but I was nowhere near ready for him. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever be ready because Bradford deserved so much more than I might ever have to give.

We fought.

You’re happy to fuck other men but you’re not happy to be with me?

I felt his hurt. God, how I felt that. But if my therapist has helped me understand one thing, it’s that we can’t give fully to others when we haven’t given to ourselves first. I’ve spent a lifetime giving, giving,giving. That had to stop before I could even begin to heal.

I couldn’t ease his hurt because I was still hurting too much myself.

Six weeks later, I read about his engagement to Cecelia Aniston and I knew our last chance to be together was gone because the name of his fiancée signaled that this wasn’t a marriage based on love. This was a political move, and that was the clear sign to me that we would never be together.

Bradford has moved on for good. He’s now chasing his lifetime ambition of becoming the president of the United States one day.

I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from losing him. But if anything can help me with that, it’s this new asshole side he wears so well.

If I could go back to that night we met nine years ago and change everything, I would.

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