“Jesus. You look like hell. Rough night?”
He grips his neck and pulls, a low chuckle escaping. “Something like that. Didn’t get to bed until four this morning.”
My brows lift. “Wow. She must’ve been good. Anyone I know?”
“Nah. Met them last night.”
“Oh, there’s more than one… again.” It’s not a question.
His mouth twists, eye squinting as he holds up three fingers.
“Jesus Christ. You slept with three women last night?” I shake my head. “What happened—did you see Jordan again?” God. He’s got to get this shit figured out.
“Am I that predictable?” He drags both hands down his face and groans. “What the hell is wrong with me? I ran into her at the charity last night. Her and her fucking doctor fiancé.”
“Did she ignore you again?”
He shakes his head. “She saidhi.Cordial, I guess. That’s it. And then I got drunk.”Of course.“And I texted her. I’m so fucking stupid. Last time she told me not to text her anymore. And then I go and have one too many and…” He trails off.
“Fuck. Did she respond?”
He scoffs, pulls out his phone, and shoves it at me.
You look unreal tonight.
I fucking miss you.
Just admit you miss me.
You can’t tell me you don’t still think about me.
Jesus.It’s a car crash I can’t look away from—messy, reckless, the complete opposite of the polished ultra-millionaire I know as my best friend.
Fuck. Ignore me. I shouldn’t have texted.
Tell me you don’t think about me and I’ll leave you alone forever.
Two hours later.
Jordan
Matt. Stop. I don’t think about you. Please don’t text me again. I wish you well, but this isn’t fair to me—or my fiancé.
What happened to never lying to each other?
She left it on read.
I let out a low whistle, handing the phone back. “Christ, man. That’s rough.”
He groans, tipping his head back against the doorframe. “Tell me about it. It’s fucking brutal.”
I fight back a laugh. It’s not funny. Not really. I don’t know all the details of what went down between him and Jordan, but it’s fucked with him. He talks to me about everything, but when it comes to her? He’s a locked safe, guarded in a way that tells me this goes a hell of a lot deeper than he admits. He loves her. That’s clear. And it’s been like this for as long as I can remember.
“Guess three women is one way to cope,” I mutter with a shake of my head. A smirk tugs at his lip, and I add, “So do they all sign NDAs before or after you sleep with them?”
He laughs, his mood officially lighter. “Before. I might’ve been drunk and reckless, but I’m not stupid.” He exhales. “I need coffee.” He brushes past me, heading down the hall. “You want any?” he calls back.
“I’m good. Had mine five hours ago.”
