Page 4 of Best Friend's Dirty Ex

At the sound of Arson’s voice, I turn and glance at the man. His eyes are narrowed and focused on me, as if picking apart every move I plan to make. “You have to know your ex isn't going to make this easy for you.” There's a slight hint of amusement in his words as he confirms that he knows more than he’d let on at the start.

But that's fine. I don't need to have the upper hand to win. It only makes things easier, not possible.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, folding his arms in front of him as he continues to zero in on me. “Whatever happened between you two?” He tilts his head in Lyla’s direction, as if I wouldn’t know who he was talking about.

“I have a feeling you already know the whole story.” I don’t see a point in wasting time or energy on inane head games.

With a chuckle, he sits back in his seat, finally relaxed for the first time since I've been sitting with him. He messes with his glass, spinning the bottom of the cup on its rim before glancing up at me from the cup. “That's where you're wrong. I know half the story.” He lets go of the cup. “Everyone knows there's three sides to every story; your version, her version, and the truth.”

“Is that so.” The words are posed as a question but come out as a flat statement. I have no interest in telling this man anything. Knowledge and information are power, and I'm not about to give anyone any kind of dominance over me, my story, or my life.

Before we can continue our conversation, the festivities pick up and the dancing begins. I pull my phone out of my pocket just to make sure nothing needs my attention before turning to watch the bride and groom share an intimate dance. The slight smile on Thea’s face, the warmth and love in Blake’s eyes tell me they’re on a good path, and I have no doubt they’re going to work everything out.

I glance over at the nanny who's dancing with the baby as Thea gestures for her to come over. Between them, they cradle their six-month old, still dancing as they kiss his fuzzy head and he peers around with bright eyes. She also waves over Azura, who smiles and hurries over, wrapping them both in a hug. And in that moment, I see them as a family, a unit, an unbreakable bond that time, distance, and heartache can’t erase.

Which is all wonderful for them, but it's absolutely not what I'm interested in. My attention strays back to Everly, who's watching the bride and groom dance with stars in her eyes. I can see that she's dreaming for something similar to what they have, and I’m not surprised. Every little girl dreams about the man who will treat her like a Princess. I'm not that man. I'm the man that will pull her hair, make her scream, bury her face in the pillow and make her orgasm so hard she worries she’ll die. But I'm not Prince Charming.

Chapter Three

Everly

Maybe it's selfish, but I don't remember ever feeling so alone.

My best friend has left for her honeymoon, my other best friend is home visiting family, and I’d die before contacting my ex. James was a real piece of work, and he absolutely messed me up in the worst ways possible.

I know that Thea was right when she said he was a narcissist, but I didn't realize how deep he had his claws in me until it was far too late. Maybe I was just desperate, just wanted someone to love me so much... and he made me feel loved. Sometimes. When it was good, it was good, but when it was bad, it was the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life.

He could somehow take me from feeling loved and on top of the world to feeling lower than dirt and absolutely miserable, crying in a puddle in the bottom of the shower. I swore to myself I'd never let that happen again, that I’d never let another man bring me down to his level, hurt me, destroy me, and spit me out like I meant nothing.

I’m just glad to be free of him, proud that I managed to shut him out of my life, and ready to move on to better things. But without my friends, I’m lonely. The thing about being with a narcissist is they're very good at convincing you to cut everyone out of your life, which means I don't really have any family to turn to or anyone else that I can count on. The only one that really stuck around was Thea.

I know that one day I need to go through and try to repair the broken bridges with family and loved ones, but today is not that day.

I send Lyla a text, wondering how she's doing. I don't have to wait long for her to tell me that she's having a good time with her niece, her mom and her dad.

Go out and have some fun. Her light-hearted text makes me smile as I throw myself back on the couch and put an arm over my eyes.

That's just it. I don't know what to do to go out and have fun by myself. Am I just super boring? My time not spent at work is spent buried in books, binging shows, or spending time with the two people who are not available right now.

But as I glance at my pile of books to be read and look at the TV neither one of them sounds like a particularly good option.

As I lie there, I begin to wonder if now is the time after all. I sit up on the couch, take a deep breath, and scroll to my mom's number on my phone.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I hit the green call button. I hear it ringing and put it on speaker, my heart pounding as everything in me tells me to hang up, hang up, hang up. I'm not ready to deal with this emotional roller coaster, I'm not ready to explain why I just dropped out of her life, I'm not ready for this conversation.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.” My voice sounds meek, and I can hear her sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Everly?” She says my name like I'm the last person she ever expected to call her, and I feel guilt and shame flowing through me. “How have you been?” Through the excitement and joy in her voice, I can hear something else, as if she’s trying to keep calm for fear of scaring me away. A thought that breaks my heart even more.

“I'm actually doing pretty well. How are you doing?” While I feel a bit awkward, it’s nice to be talking to her again.

“I'm doing pretty good. Your father has taken up extreme cooking, which means he puts hot peppers in far too many dishes and screams at cooking shows on TV more often than I’d like.”

I can't hold back a smile at her characterization of my father. “That sounds like the kind of hobby he'd pick up. What about you? Any exciting new hobbies?”

“I did try power walking with Joan for a while, but I felt silly and didn't really enjoy it, so I quit and decided to have a margarita in the morning first thing instead.”

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