Hand on his cock, Paige starts to stroke him, but then Dean speaks again.
“It’s not gonna work,” he says before lifting his glass to take another drink. “Millie’s not here.” Laughing, he sets his glassdown before turning to look at her. “Matter of fact, I sincerely doubt it’s ever going to work again.”
Like she can’t hear the utter contempt in his tone or see the disgust on his face, Paige doesn’t give up. She keeps touching him. “And why’s that?”
“Because I’ve had the real thing,” he says bluntly. “I’ve had her. Felt her close around me while she comes and there’s no comparison. You’re not her. You’ll never be her, so no matter how hard I close my eyes or how many times I call you by her name, fucking you will never even come close.” Turning away from her, he lifts his glass to drink the last of it before setting it down loud enough to startle the bartender. “Now, for the last and final time—get your hand off my dick.” Pushing her hand away, he stands. “You and I are over, Paige. I need you to get that through your crazy, fucked-up skull—we’re over.”
“You don’t mean that.” She’s crying now but they’re fake tears. Manufactured for her audience. “Don’t leave me, please, just?—”
“We’re over.” Dean says it while he puts on his suit jacket. “We were over the second Millie asked me to run away with her—and there’s no going back. Not for me.”
“You’ll regret it,” she tells me, still crying, still putting on a show but her tone has gone hard. Bitter. “She’s never going to want you. You’re going to realize what a mistake you’ve made and you’re going to come crawling back and when you do, I?—”
“There’s only one woman I’d crawl for.Her last name might be Blackwell but she sure as fuck isn’t you.” Turning away from her, he looks at the bartender. “Have a bottle of Jameson sent up to my room—I have a feeling those minibar bottles aren’t gonna cut it.”
“Read the comments,” Gwen says from the chair across from me. Pausing the video, I hit the little bubble icon so I can do as she says.
Did I just see that? Did she really just SA him? On Beyonce’s internet?!?
Holy shit—he said stop, right? I’m not the only one who heard that, am I? He said ‘stop touching me’ and she totally ignored him.
If this were a man, caught on video, doing that to a woman, he’d be in jail right now.
God, I hope he presses charges. She needs to answer for that.
Looking up, slack-jawed I find Gwen looking at me.
“It’s all the same,” she tells me. “It’s on every social platform and they’re all saying the same thing. She’sdone. Once Dad sees this, it’s over. There’s no way she’ll recover.”
“Don’t count on it.” Setting my phone down, I give her a miserable head shake. “You should’ve seen her last night. She just flitted around from group to group, smiling and laughing like none of it ever happened. It’s like she’s made of Teflon.”
“Well, she’s not dodging that,” Gwen says, her jaw jutting out stubbornly. “Dad and his cronies might be stupid enough to ignore that shit but the rest of the normal-thinking world won’t be so quick to forgive her.”
Even though I don’t necessarily agree, I don’t argue with her. “It really doesn’t matter though,” I tell her with a sigh. “He slept with her. He?—”
“Are you victim blaming?” Her shoulders go stiff while she jerks back in her seat. “Are youactually?—”
“No.” I cut her off, my tone firm enough to snap her mouth closed. “No—what happened last night wasn’t Dean’s fault. Nothing that happened before then between them should matter. What she did was assault.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Gwen sighs. “But?”
“But… he chose her.” I push it out in a rush because saying it makes me sound petty. Makes me sound pathetic because it’s the thing I can’t get past. The thing I can’t let go.
Dean had me.
Hehadme and he let me go.
He made his choice and followed it out the door and even if he regrets it now, how am I supposed to trust that he won’t make that choice again?
“I’m not following.” Dropping her arms away from her chest, Gwen frowns at me. “Dean chose Paige? When? Not last night and sure as hell not the entire time you were?—”
“That night—the night we met. At your bachelorette party at the Hamptons house. Dean was with me, in my room and?—”
“Am I going to need another drink for this?”
When she says it, I remember that she’s not supposed to be drinking. “Probably not. I mean…” Looking down at her stomach, I feel mine drop because I’ve been so preoccupied with my own drama that I forgot about her. “Aren’t you…”
Frowning at me, Gwen’s gaze drops to her stomach, on top of mine like she’s looking for something. “Oh.” Gaze popping back up on a laugh, she shakes her head. “What? No—I’m notpregnant.I’ve just been doing a ninety-day cleanse.” Looking around the room, at all the food and empty champagne flutes, she laughs. “Obviously I’m going to have to start over.” Reaching for the basket of pastries, Gwen deliberately chooses a black and white cookie the size of her face. “I’m only twenty-five and there’s a lot that Dalton and I want to do before we’re ready for kids. Now…” Breaking her cookie down the middle, she leans across the table to offer me half. “Focus. Tell me about what happened between you and Dean in the Hamptons.”
