I narrowed my eyes. “Whatdidn’t mean anything?”
“I...” He ran his hand through his hair, looking adorably rumpled and confused. “What I said?”
I dropped the sheet and marched across the room to the Louis XV wardrobe, wrenching it open. I ripped the hotel bathrobe from thehanger and wrapped it around me, grateful for its shielding warmth. Like he hadn’t already seen everything I had.
“You’re stunning.”
Tears stung my eyes.
“Amy... Sweetheart...” His voice nearly undid me. “Can we please start over? What can I do?”
I yanked the belt tight. “Show me your phone.”
A long pause, measured in heartbeats.
Trey cleared his throat. “Look, the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
Which meant, of course, that he would.
I grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “What’s your passcode?”
“This is stupid.”
Stupid, stupid. “Show me.” My heart beat frantically. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe...
He sighed and unlocked his phone. “Can we at least talk about this, please?”
I took the phone and tapped on his messages. Naturally, Jo’s name was first on his list. I scrolled through several days’ worth of texts, numbness spreading through me.
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
Forgive me?
And—sent yesterday—a picture of the Tuileries Gardens. Taken, apparently, when he’d been with me.Thinking of you, he had typed.
My eyes were suddenly dry and scratchy. Silently, I handed back the phone.
He glanced at the screen. His mouth twisted. “Okay, I know this looks... I know how this looks. But it’s not that big a deal. We text each other all the time.”
“Youtext. You. She’s not answering.”
“We had a fight.”
“You told me you broke up with her.”
“We did.”
“Then why are you texting her?”Why did you sleep with me?
“It’s... habit, okay? I didn’t even think about it.”
As if that didn’t make it worse.
“Thanks for the explanation,” I said politely.
He got out of bed—naked—and walked toward me. I averted my gaze. “Look, I’m really sorry. I care about you, Amy, you know I do, I...”
