“You have?”
“Yes. I thought I’d be happier alone, but it’s the opposite. I preferred having you around—even if it wasn’t very often.”
“Oh, I see.”
“And you? Do you miss me?”
My hands are clammy, and my heart is beating too fast. I haven’t felt the absence of Eddie as a person. I’m actually amazed at how little I think of him. But I miss being in a relationship, having someone to count on, to come home to, to support and be supported by… I miss the comfort of knowing the rest of my life is set and headed in the right direction. All I can think of is how simple things were with him, how we barely ever argued, how we had the same wishes for our future—down to the number of children we wanted.
Edward can help me become the person I’m meant to be. Mother made it beyond clear during our brunch that I messed up and might never find someone as ideally suited for me. I even know that Victoria would have liked him, with his conciliatory temperament and classic good looks. Edward Hoffman is the perfect catch, the man every woman wants—something that was very clear at Harvard before we got together.
He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I am lucky that this page of my life isn’t entirely turned yet.
So, why do I feel like such a fraud when I say, “I’ve missed you too, Eddie.”
How can doing the right thing feel so wrong?
Chapter Seventeen
Jake
I don’t think I have ever seensomeone who screams “trust fund knobhead” as much as the man Gen is standing with. One second she was with me, we were flirting and having fun, and the next, she was rushing to that arsehole.
Since I have no idea what the fuck is happening, I stay in the background and eat the stuff on the plate I made for her. Why does he have his hand around her waist like that, and why isn’t she whacking it away as she would for me?
I’m taken out of my thoughts when her friend appears next to me. Her eyes are on them too, on Gen and the twat, talking to an old couple.
When I extend the plate before her, she picks up something and eats it.
“Who is he?” I ask.
“Her ex.” The animosity she puts in those two short words lets me know exactly what she thinks of the golden douchebag.
“The one who told her she sucked in bed?”
Gen’s friend turns to me with wide eyes, surprised. “She told you about that?”
“Yeah. She was so upset that I could have punched him in the face.”
When she speaks again, she’s hesitant. “And is she?”
“Is she what?”
“Bad in bed.”
“Fuck no. I’ve actually never had this much fun in my life.”
“Okay, good. I suspected it wasn’t true, but Edward put this idea in her head, and she became convinced he was right.”
“No, your friend is fucking dynamite in the sack. I told her he was a twat for saying that. And I didn’t even know he looked the part.”
The brunette giggles. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“Look at his shoes. Who the fuck under fifty wears those?”
“A trust fund baby.”
Then and there, I know I like this woman. “What’s your name, love?” I ask her.
