We stare at one another as Brad’s voice takes on a cocky arrogance. “She tried you out, Buddy. But we both know a supermodel isn’t going to run off into the sunset with a bodyguard.” He snorts like the idea is absurd. “She’s way out of your league.”
I ignore him, giving every cell of my body over to focusing on Sinclair. “You chose to do this with him?”
Her chest shakes as more tears spill from her eyes. She rubs at them, smearing mascara across her skin.
“Tell me you didn’t, Sinclair,” I say, my voice a choked breath as I struggle not to break apart in front of her. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I…” She clamps a hand over her mouth as a sob shakes her. “I can’t.”
“How the fuck could you? After everything,” I say, not caring if I sound weak. Not caring about a fucking thing anymore.
Except the truth.
She cries harder and lifts a trembling hand to reach for me. But her outstretched fingers curl into her palm and she lowers it before she touches me.
“It counted,” she whispers so quietly that I have to strain to hear her.
Blood rushes in my ears, my teeth clenching until my jaw feels like it might snap. “It what?”
“That first time with Brad…” She swallows, wincing like she’s in pain. “It… it counted.”
All sense of control abandons me.
It fucking counted?
“It is yours. You were my first, Denver.”
“I fucking love you!” I shout.
I can’t make out her eyes anymore. They are two swollen patches of black as she sobs.
“I know. And I’m so sorry… I… love?—”
“Don’t you dare say it,” I snap, making her cry harder. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I drag in a breath that makes my lungs feel like they’re filling with shards of broken glass. She stands in front of me shaking, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around her as I witness her distress. As it breaks me apart like a bomb went off inside my chest.
“Tell me nothing happened,” I whisper.
She shakes her head.
“Princess?” I choke. “Tell me thetruth.”
“I…” She starts, then has to stop to compose herself. But she can’t stop herself from shaking as she looks up at me. “We were fun, Denver. And for a while, I really believed we could be happy… I…” She swallows, her lower lip wobbling before she pulls it into her mouth. “I…”
“Don’t,” I rasp. “You have a choice. Don’t make the wrong one.”
“I’m so sorry.” She turns her face like she can’t bear to look at me anymore. “You should go.”
Despite myself, I take a step toward her.
She sucks in a sharp breath and steps backward, away from me, creating a distance between us. “You should go.”
“You don’t mean that.”
I realize my mistake the moment the words leave my mouth. Everyone tells her what to do. She hates having her choices taken from her.
But she’s chosen this? She’s really fucking chosenthis?
