Jordan and I had a bit of a falling out after things got serious with Richard. We met up two years ago, when my godson Cole was in town. He lives in Chicago with his dad, my cousin Nate. Jordan and I took him to the park together. She loves Cole, and we kept things cool. Then it was hot and cold for a few months, texting here and there. The last time I saw her was at a charity event a little over two months ago. She’d been nice, saidhi, but that was it. Then I got wasted and sent her a string of texts I wish to God I could take back.
I flip back to her name and scroll up, re-reading the nightmare.
You look unreal tonight.
I fucking miss you.
Just admit you miss me.
You can’t tell me you don’t still think about me.
Fuck. Ignore me. I shouldn’t have texted.
Tell me you don’t think about me and I’ll leave you alone forever.
Two hours later, she finally replied.
Jordan
Matt. Stop. I don’t think about you. Please don’t text me again. I wish you well, but this isn’t fair to me… or my fiancé.
What happened to never lying to each other?
Then the text I sent yesterday, and the one she apparently unsent.
“Shit.” I mutter under my breath.She called off her wedding, and then she texted me.
I don’t even hesitate. My thumbs move fast as I reply to her unsent message.
Hey… you alright?
Chapter Two
MATT
Hey… you alright?
I stareat the words for way too long, waiting for them to turn to read, but they don’t.
Frustrated, I set my phone face down on the vanity and turn for the shower, needing to wake the hell up. I twist the knob and wait for the water to warm before stepping inside.
The steam hits first, the pounding spray instantly easing my hangover. When the hell am I going to learn I’m too old for this shit? Too old to drink the way I did last night. I’m not twenty-five anymore. I can’t party until sunrise, drink everyone under the table, and wake up ready to do it again.
But who am I kidding? This is what I do. What I always do. Weekends. Drinking. Women.
It’s the one thing I took from my dad: when life gets too loud, drink or find someone to fuck until you can breathe again. Simple. Effective. Makes you feel in control.
I’m running multiple companies: my real estate empire, boutique hotels, residential towers, the nightclub—employing hundreds of people. It comes with a lot of stress. And it builds. All fucking week it builds. So by Friday?
I’m ready to un-fucking-wind.
The door to the bathroom opens and the blonde steps inside. Can’t remember her name for the life of me. She’s naked, hair a mess, mascara smeared under her eyes.
“Shit,” she mumbles, squinting at the light as she shoots a hungover glance at me. “I gotta pee.”
She beelines for the toilet room, and my eyes follow her naked ass until the door shuts, then shift straight to the vanity, to my phone, wondering if Jordan texted back yet.
I wash quickly, turn the water off, and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist just as the blonde comes out to wash her hands. My gaze rakes over her backside at the sink, then lifts to the mirror, to the reflection of her tits.
