Page 113 of Worth Loving You

She tugged her jacket closed and sat down on the sofa across from me, only to suck on the back of her teeth and rear up, reminding me what her round, large ass looked like because of me. Leaning to one hip, she eased down, folding the other leg on the cushions beside her, resting her elbow on the arm of the furniture.

We gazed into one another’s eyes in silence, the only sounds the brisk wind and an airplane in the distance.

“We’re done,” I finally blurted, taking a drag and averting my gaze when her expression fell.

“Oh,” was all she said.

Thumbing my nose, I squinted at the sun, checking out the cloudless sky. Several minutes ticked by. I didn’t look at her again, but I could feel her staring. Neither of us said anything. What was there to say?

I love you, Chazzy. Don’t agree to marry Milo when he asks you this weekend because I want you to be with me?

Yeah, that would be a nice, long life of happiness…all of fifteen minutes before we were taken out for betraying the boss.

I could never ask her to make that sacrifice. Not only because it was selfish, but because, deep down inside, I knew she would reject me. She was not in love with me, she was in love with Milo. She belonged with him. She was his woman, but my responsibility.

After nearly five minutes, she put her foot on the floor to stand, paused as if she expected me to say something, and then got up. She took a small step toward me, stopped, and continued to ogle me.

I coughed, forcing myself not to shiver. I was the one who was going to end up with the flu if I didn’t get out of this cold.

She opened her mouth to say something but bowed her head, instead. She was tapping her fingers together, sniffling. Coughing, she flipped her hair out her face, turned around, and walked off.

Cursing, I slouched so low, the base of my skull caught the back of the chair. I stared at the soft blue sky, twirling my cigarette between my fingers.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? My parents literally planned to have a baby for the sole purpose of being Milo’s sidekick, just like my two older brothers were born for Milo’s brother and sister. That was our reason for being. The Shaw’s weren’t meant for a purpose outside the Pampinella we were assigned.

I had no choice but to end things with Chastity. It was too risky.

Now I got the pleasure of standing on the sidelines the rest of my life, watching the woman I love marry another man, have kids together, and live a life that should be mine.

I was in hell and there was no escape.

Chapter 42

Chastity Monroe

The dining room was dark with a slight gothic theme. The ceiling was exposed wood stained black, the walls a tufted, padded, dark burgundy. Several gilded mirrors hung on decorative chains from the crown molding, leaning against the walls, each one the same size and shape, but slightly different in decoration.

Italian marble tiles for the floor were covered by a large black rug with a golden swirl, circle, and diamond pattern. Five round tables filled the private room, covered in white linens that pooled on the floor, each one seating eight. Accent lighting was sparse, casting shadows to add to the romantic feel.

Every seat was filled with our dinner party to celebrate my birthday. My friends took up two tables, two were business related, and our table consisted of me, Milo, Mr. and Mrs. Pampinella, his brother, Jack and his wife, and his sister, Chrissy and her husband. At the bar across from us were Wyatt with his two brothers, whom he had apparently not seen in over a year.

Watching their reunion had been heartwarming. I had never seen Wyatt so excited as he threw his arms out and hugged each brother, patting them on the back.

Sadness ladened my heart as I tugged at my diamond earrings. Well, there were a few exceptions when I saw him just as excited, just about something a little different.

Tearing my focus from him, I examined Mr. and Mrs. Pampinella. She was a dainty woman with delicate features, small, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair. She had jewels dripping everywhere, her ears, her neck, wrists, fingers. Though she was still impressive to look at, it was easy to tell she’d lived through years of stress, and at one point, she had been stunning.

Was that going to be me in thirty years? Looking sad, my youthful beauty haunting through my botoxed wrinkles and spray on tan? She simply sat beside her husband, not saying a word, keeping her eyes straight ahead and never looking at anyone.

It was awkward meeting his whole family for the first time on my birthday. It would have been nice in a more intimate setting where forty other people weren’t around.

Milo looked a lot like his father. His blond hair was short and neatly trimmed, his light gray eyes bright and surrounded by thick lashes. He had the same chiseled jawline with the dimple on the left of his dazzling smile, a dark blond mustache and goatee sprinkled with the first stages of white.

Jack and Milo could be twins, only when he looked at me, he did so with resentment and a hint of embarrassment. Never holding my stare for more than a couple of seconds, he was constantly muttering under his breath out the corner of his mouth to the raven haired supermodel sitting beside him. Her nose, chin, brows, and breasts clearly augmented, I couldn’t help but think Jack had created the perfect woman over the years.

Chrissy was probably the most petite woman I had ever seen, making me wonder if she weren’t a tad on the anorexic side. Her hair bleached almost white, was styled around her long, oval face and barely moved from all the products. Bright red lips, long, thick, fake lashes, and skin that was overly tanned like her mother, she was exceedingly proud of her fake breasts, poking them out and dragging her long, manicured nails along them every time a waiter walked by.

Her former professional football player husband ignored every flirtatious giggle and wink, chugging one glass of wine after another, well on his way to inebriation.