Page 37 of Mr. Big Shot

“The lion canceled last minute.”

He shakes his head sympathetically. “How very cowardly.”

I try to hide my smile by looking down. He turns his body so his hip leans against the rail, and his full attention rests on me in an unnerving way. Everything about him is so intense, from the sharp angles of his jaw to the smolder in his gaze.

I’m left trying to keep things light between us, bringing up subjects that feel safe—though I’m not sure why. We’re not alone; we’re at a party surrounded by hundreds of people.

“It’s sweet that you dressed up with Lucy.”

He balks. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

“So she wears the pants in your relationship?” I tease.

“One hundred percent.”

He watches the smile spread across my lips, staring a beat too long.

“Where’s Jasper?”

I rear back at his question. “Jasper?”

“Your boyfriend,” he says with a pointed flare of annoyance.

I’m sorry, but I find it hard to believe he a) knows I have a boyfriend and b) happens to know his name. I suppose he gleaned all of this a few weeks back when Jasper came to collect me from his office, but I didn’t think it’d stick with him or anything.

Also, on top of all of that, why does he care?

“He went to dinner with his parents.” My brows furrow disapprovingly. “But you…you shouldn’t even be asking about him.”

I hate that my voice shakes with nerves. I’d love nothing more than to match his boldness step for step. Usually, I can, but not tonight.

He relents with an easygoing shrug. “You’re right. I shouldn’t. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

He’s already backing away and my mouth opens like I’m about to plead with him to stay or maybe even apologize about cutting off his line of questions, but it feels necessary to keep the wall up between us. Safer that way.

But damn…I wish I’d picked the reckless option instead.

I wish I’d told him the truth: Jasper and I are almost certainly done as of ten minutes ago.

Now why do you care?

Chapter Thirteen

Scarlett

I give Jasper the benefit of the doubt about the party, but when I open up Instagram the next morning and see that he’s been tagged in a bunch of photos with friends from last night, I realize how done we really are.

It’s one thing to skip out on the Halloween party to meet his parents for dinner. It’s a completely different situation to ignore my calls and ditch me to hang out with other people, most of whom I don’t even recognize.

I know he’s been going out without me the last few weeks, and I haven’t been concerned about it. Just because I’ve been working around the clock doesn’t mean his life had to stop, but we let it go too far. We missed the chance to repair what’s damaged, and now, the thought of trying to slog through all this mess just doesn’t seem worth it. I don’t care about him enough to try, and that’s damning in and of itself.

He finally returns my call later that morning, and I suggest we meet somewhere for brunch. He’s hungover when he arrives at the diner. I’m already in a corner booth working through my second cup of coffee, and before he apologizes to me for being late, he waves down a passing waitress and orders a cup for himself. His usually soft features are held in tight tension, like there’s a headache brewing just beneath the surface.

When she’s gone, he sheepishly turns to me. “Hey.”

He barely holds eye contact before he grabs the menu, and I’m kind of taken aback by his demeanor. I mean, I know I’m about to break up with him, but as far as he knows, everything is hunky-dory between us.

“How was your night?”

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