“Oh shit,” I mutter, recognition slamming into me.
Nolan Rhodes is falling apart. One moment he’s that powerful, enigmatic rival, and the next he’s lurching over the rail, white-knuckled and in agony, vomiting violently over the side.
My mouth drops open.
Holy. Shit.
Maya stares in horrified fascination. Jeremy lets out a sympathetic whistle.
“Damn,” he murmurs. “That’s brutal, man.”
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
Because what the hell am I supposed to do?
Offer him water? A mint? My pity?
Nope. Not happening.
Instead, I do the only thing I can do.
I sit back, watch my nemesis, and the guy who told me to use him in the bathroom of a bar, then inboxed me a rejection email, get absolutely wrecked by Mother Nature.
In that stark moment, the undeniable power surges within me, and yet it is tainted by a deep, gnawing conflict. I’m torn between reveling in his downfall and a reluctant, warring empathy that refuses to let me completely celebrate his humiliation.
What kind of a person does that make me exactly?
Well, it’s complicated.
CHAPTER 38
THE DOOR BETWEEN US
NOLAN
I stareat my reflection in the mirror, gripping the edge of the bronze sink.
Right now, it’s the only thing holding me upright. My face is ghostly pale, my hair damp around the edges from the water I’ve splashed to cool myself down, and there’s a faint, humiliating pink flush crawling up my neck that screams: “Hey, remember that time you puked in front of literally everyone?”
I thought I hit rock bottom before this. But apparently, rock bottom has a new name, and it’sProjectile Vomiting Over the Side of a Luxury Boat While Your Ex, and Her New Boyfriend Watch.
And I saw it. The moment. That fleeting second when Chloe moved forward, as though some residual reflex of caretaking kicked in. Like she cared. But Jackson’s hand shot out fast, fingers snapping around her wrist, pulling her back as though I was some charity case he didn’t want her pitying.
Which is hilarious, because if she had come over, I probably would’ve thrown her overboard right after my dignity.
Oh, and let’s not forget the pièce de résistance—Rorie, front row to witness my tragic downfall.
She saw me in all my glory, kneeling like a Renaissance painting gone horribly wrong, clutching my stomach, heaving dramatically while everyone else pretended not to notice. Realdamsel in digestivedistressenergy.
Except her.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pretend not to notice. She watched.
And now, I have to face her.
Fantastic.
Taking one last deep breath, I wipe my face with a paper towel, square my shoulders, and open the door.Fuck it.
