Yeah. I remembered that, and dread snaked through me as his words sank in. I knew what was coming but pretended nonchalance.
“Nate was an ass. He’s lucky you and I forgave him for that remark.”
Ignoring my jab at his beloved, Press continued. “Tell me that’s all Torre is to you, and I’ll drop it. Tell me Torre was just an easy fuck, and I’ll never mention him again.”
My expression remained frozen, but inwardly I winced, hearing Torre spoken about so crudely.
“You know, ever since you met Nate, you’re not as fun anymore. All those endorphins, or whatever happens when you have too much sex, must’ve altered your body chemistry.”
Presley laughed in my face. “You’re dodging the issue because you’re afraid I’m right.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, and I have nothing to prove to you,” I huffed. “Now give me my phone. You’ve been no help at all.”
“You’re right.” He dropped the phone into my hand. “You have nothing to prove to me. So say it out loud for yourself. If Torre means nothing to you, then it’s easy. It’s never been hard for you to walk away before.”
“I already did, so you’re wrong.” I checked my messages and saw, in between the gallery openings and restaurants I personally wished to try, a text from Torre:Everything ok?
My stomach flipped, and I shoved the phone into my suit jacket pocket. “I have to go.”
Maybe all I needed was to see Torre one more time to tell him I couldn’t be what he needed. Face-to-face. That would be the nice thing to do.
Brushing off Presley’s protests, I walked away from him and out the door.
