He emailed me over and over again. He called a truce and watched Netflix with me and cooked me breakfast and became my friend and…
Nate grabs me by the shoulders and levels his eyes with mine. “Babe, look. Forget about him, he’s just crushing on you. Me and you? We had that incredible connection at the baseball game. You fell in love withme. Remember? Julia doesn’t have to know anything about us.”
I push his hands off me and storm back inside Julia’s apartment. “Julia?” I say.
She looks up over the rim of her wine glass at me.
“Are you back with Nate?”
She holds up her hand and twinkles a bright shiny diamond ring at me. “He gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
I wait for the sick feeling to rip through my stomach, but it doesn’t come. I look down wondering when my chest will explode into thousands of pieces, but it stays whole and beating steadily. When will my knees drop and I sob out his name? When will the dam of my rage burst open and I flood her with the knowledge Nate was my Mr. Perfect first, my Kiss Cam guy?
None of that happens, though.
I sit next to her on the couch and take her hand in mine and look at the ring. It’s beautiful. Big, bright, and expensive, just what Julia likes. “What about Pierre Auden Luc?” I whisper.
She nudges me with her shoulder and smiles secretly at me. “What Nate doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
I nod and let go of her hand, smiling. “You both deserve each other.” I stand and grab my bottle of wine. “And I deserve this.”
I take a long deep pull from the bottle and walk out of her apartment without looking back at either of them.
Chapter 26
Trembling, I sit in my dark apartment, with a bottle of wine clutched to my chest. I’m no longer drinking it, though; I need my head clear right now.
Nate asked Julia to marry him. They’ve been together for a handful of monthsand she cheated on him with a freaking prince. Yet, Nate still wanted Julia to be his wife.
Me. I could be his secret if I wanted to.
The funny thing about all this is that it doesn’t hurt. I’m seriously sitting here waiting for my heart to break, but it isn’t, it doesn’t even feel like there’s a sliver or a crack in it at all. I feel fine. Great, actually.
The only thing I really feel is an overwhelming desire to see Dex.“You’re still holding onto the belief that he might be the love of your life, aren’t you? All because of that kiss cam? If that goddamn camera moved another foot over to the left, it would have me.”
I don’t need that decoded. And as I sit here and think about all the time Dex and I spent together and all the things that he said to me, I realize I don’t need any of that translated either.“That epic love you’re looking for doesn’t come with fireworks and explosions. It comes quiet and easy. It isn’t found in a packed stadium the instant two strangers kiss. It’s built between two people who nurture and support each other.”Dex was talking about me and him. The whole time I was chasing after a kiss, Dex was falling in love with me.
I used to think that love was supposed to feel like this all-consuming ache that you couldn’t go a day without. A sort of addiction where your bodies craved each other’s more than anyone else’s, a need so strong it cripples your soul to be without them.
Sitting here thinking about Dex feels like something is going to burst inside of me—some sort of warmth or fever—and I know I need to see him right now.
I send him a text, a short one that just says:Hey.
For the next twenty minutes, I cradle my phone in my hands waiting for his reply, but there isn’t one. I stand up and start to pace, trying to figure out what to do.
Next door, the two assholes are screwing on the couch again, and for some reason Nate really wants her to keep yelling how big his dick is.
Dex is right again. She probably is faking it. And next month or maybe next year, Prince Pierre Auden Luc will fly into New York on his private jet and Julia will tell Nate she’s working on a story and she needs to go away for a few days, and she’ll squeal the same big dick lies for Pierre Auden Luc.
Dex still hasn’t texted me back.
I rummage through my drawers looking for my address book. I know I have to have his address written inside; I send holiday cards to everyone. Even Dex. Shoved in the back of the junk drawer, I find it. Dex’s name is under C for Cock-juggling-thunder-cunt.
I rip the entire page out and grab my jacket. I can’t wait another minute. I need to talk this all out with him. I need to hear it from him how he feels, and I need to tell him how I feel.
His apartment is a ten-minute walk from mine, so I don’t brother calling for a car. It’s no wonder he always got to my place so quickly, he lives so close.
Dex’s block is lined with trees and old brownstone buildings. I didn’t take him for someone who lived in a brownstone, on a nice street; I always pictured him in some dark dingy basement with buzzing flies and a dumpster right outside.
