Removing two bottles of water from the fridge, I throw one to him. “I had to learn to be frugal. Dad had total control over my money for a few years. I hated running everything by him, so I learned to get by on less.”
“He’s a prick,” Jared snaps, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Who does that to his own flesh and blood?”
“When I was out of control and spending every penny on drugs, I understood it,” I say, taking some chopping knives out of the drawer. “But after I was clean and sober, he needed to trust me again, and he refused to do it. The only reason I have any independence is because Sawyer insisted on giving me the agreed settlement per the prenup, and he paid it directly to me. He also hooked me up with my own bank account and helped me to move overseas. Without his support, I would have been lost.”
“I can’t believe your dad cut you off like that.” He uncaps his water and takes a swig. “He’s a fucking multimillionaire! Why would he treat you like that?”
“I have given up trying to work it out, and I refuse to give him headspace anymore.”
“It’s fucked up,” he says, rounding the unit and standing beside me.
“Yup.”
“I’m glad Sawyer helped you. I guess I should stop feeling so envious and resentful of him.”
My brows climb to my hairline. “You’re envious and resentful of Hunt?”
Sincere blue eyes, awash with emotion, pin me in place. “He got to see you walking down the aisle in a white dress.”
“It was fake, and the whole day was kind of miserable.” A lump rises in my throat. “All our guests were congratulating me and telling me I was beautiful, and my husband hadn’t even noticed, let alone made any comment. That night, I had to practically beg him to fuck me. After, he left immediately and later said it was a mistake.” I have put that whole sorry episode behind me, but thinking back to my wedding day and night always makes me sad. I wish I could wipe the memory from my mind as easily as we wiped the marriage from the record books.
“What?” Jared says in a clipped voice. His jaw pulls taut.
That was the absolute last thing I should have said to him, especially when he has a sharp chopping knife in hand. “It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter now,” I say as I remove the chicken breasts from the packaging.
“It fucking matters, Syd.” He puts the knife down. With tender fingers, he clasps my face, and I almost forget how to breathe. “Fake or not, it was still your wedding day. He should have gone out of his way to ensure you were comfortable, protected, and felt cherished. He didn’t have to love you to acknowledge how beautiful you were. I haven’t seen any photos.” A visible shudder works its way through him. “But I don’t need to see any to know you were the most stunning bride to ever walk the earth. How dare he do that to you. I will knock that guy the fuck out for treating you so disrespectfully.”
Tears prick my eyes, and it’s hard not to react to his caring words and his protective manner, but I force them away. No more tears is my new motto. “He made up for it in other ways. He’s a good guy. I think you’d like him.”
His mouth opens and closes a few times, and then he drops my face and puts a little distance between us.
“What?” I probe. “Say what you were going to say.”
“I shouldn’t,” he says, picking the knife up again and beginning to cut the chicken into cubes.
“We agreed on total honesty, J. Don’t hide shit from me.”
“Okay, but you asked for it,” he says, putting the knife down and giving me his full attention. “I will make sure you know how loved, adored, cherished, and beautiful you are when you walk down the aisle tome. I will spend all night worshipping you with my fingers, my tongue, and my cock, and you sure as fuck won’t have to beg for it. You’ll be damn lucky if I ever let you leave our bed, and there wouldn’t be a single part of me that would ever, could ever, regret it.” His eyes drill into mine. “How’s that for honesty?”
I’m stunned speechless as lust coils low in my belly, and I throb down below. When Jared and I had sex before, we were clueless kids. Now he’s an experienced man with intimate knowledge of a woman’s body. A rock star with the notches on his bedpost to prove it. I can’t find it in me to hate all who have come before when I know the next time we fall into bed he’s going to blow my mind, decimate my heart, and ruin my body for eternity.
Is it wrong that I can’t wait?
No. I internally chastise myself. Jared and I sleeping together, getting back together, is not a forgone conclusion. He’s still having a baby with another woman, and I still don’t know if I can ever deal with it.
My ardor instantly cools.
“Have you nothing to say?” he asks in a gruff voice.
His eyes are dilated when I look at him. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me.”
He opens and closes his mouth again, but this time, I don’t ask. I have learned that lesson.
“So, about your car,” he says as he resumes chopping the chicken. “I’d like to take a look at it tomorrow. Check out that oil leak.”
“Sure,” I say, placing the vegetables on the second chopping board. “Thanks.”
He sets his knife down again. “Can we forget I said anything?” he asks, and I detect hurt behind his words. “I don’t want to ruin things. Not when they’ve been going well.”
