Eric placed his cutlery on his plate. “I think you are mistaken.”
“Mm.” Jordan’s tone held doubt. “Does this look mistaken to you?” He drew out his phone and held it where Eric could see. Where EJ could see.
Her breath suspended. Was that Eric—clutching Gwen’s rear?
Nausea rolled through her stomach.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Gwen said quickly.
“I don’t see how you can explain it away in any other way.” Again Jordan’s eyes met hers, his look saying he was sorry.
She pressed her lips together, knowing eyes were on her. A candle glowed on the table; she concentrated on it, not on the way her world felt like it was shattering around her.
She had a choice now. Act the part of the enraged girlfriend and press Eric for details. Or be classy and let it slide.
Stuff being classy.
She turned to face Eric, lifting her eyebrows in the way that had always worked on Lionel. It was time to see if it would work on him too.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eric said. “It was years ago.”
“Gwen’s haircut and colour makes it look pretty recent to me.”
“Come on, EJ. You don’t believe a silly picture, do you? It’s obvious it was photoshopped. You know how people get, how jealous they can be.”
“It’s weird how there are all these other pictures too.” Jordan tapped his phone and the screen filled with other images. So many more. Most from a TikTok account that seemed determined to expose Eric Churchill, but there were also paparazzi shots, online magazines, candid photos from parties.
EJ studied them, then studied Eric, whose face said he was prepared to bluff it out, then Gwen, whose face said that she wasn’t. “You’re a cheat.”
“Come on, babe. She means nothing to me.”
Gwen’s gasp said that was news to her.
EJ turned to her half-finished meal and pushed it away. Carefully folded her linen napkin and placed that on the plate. Glanced around the table, encountering eyes that variously showed bemusement, horror, and dismay. And then there was Jordan, unreadable still.
She pushed out her chair.
“Don’t make a scene,” Eric muttered, clasping her arm.
But she wrenched away, taking a step toward Jordan, who was also standing now.
“We’re done.”
“Babe, no. You’re my Dream Match, remember?”
She scoffed. “You were never my Dream Match. You’re not even real. I don’t think you’d know a real relationship if it bit you on the backside.” An unfortunate turn of phrase, but she didn’t care.
“I think it’s fair to say that Dream Match won’t be needing any of your investment,” Jordan said.
She nodded. “This is over. It’s all over.”
“No, it’s not. We want your app, and we haven’t spent all this time just for you to walk away.” Eric lunged for her, but she stepped back.
Jordan muscled in front of her. “It’s done.” Jordan glanced at her. “Did you have anything to say?”
The room was spinning. She could barely think. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured.
“Get your things and we’ll leave.”
