Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“I was only there for two days,” he returned quietly.
“Then you didn’t want me there because—”
“No,” he interrupted, holding up his hand. “I had no idea when I left that something was going to happen. You have to believe me. I didn’t plan any of it. I swear to God, Trace.”
“What did happen?”
“I cheated on you,” he conceded, raking his hands through his hair again. It was an unconscious gesture; one he did whenever he felt trapped.
“Which made it easier to do the second time,” I said flatly.
“No.”
“Yes,” I scoffed. “Come on. Be honest. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t—”
“Just tell me what happened. I’m curious.”
His eyes narrowed. “If you really don’t give a shit, then why should I—”
“Fine. Don’t,” I said, resigned. “Just go.”
“I let myself be seduced,” he rushed out. “That’s what happened.”
I thought about that. “Isn’t that what you said happened with Sean?”
He shook his head. “No. Sean… We’d been flirting for years, just fun, didn’t mean anything until that day. But we had a history.”
Good to know. All the times he’d told me that he flirted with everyone and it didn’t matter, that too was a lie. And I could hear Matt in my head saying, fuck him, who cares, get over it, and I would. I would. But still, I had to process it all. It was like a thread I had to find the end of. Once I could see the whole thing, then I could make my peace with it and move on.
I was almost glad I hadn’t known about Celia when Breckin and I broke up. If I had found out about her right after Sean, I’d be dead. That would have killed me. Because one affair I’d felt bad over, stupid, unwanted, unloved, but two meant I had not been enough for him at all. Ever. He had to find more because I was so very lacking.
But now, after months had gone by, I was far more invested in the why of it all, in the timing, than anything to do with me emotionally. Breckin had been there for me when I was in that accident three years ago, and again last night when I was vulnerable, and for both, I would always be thankful. But my heart was no longer engaged, and I was so thankful for that. He didn’t belong to me anymore, so I didn’t feel possessive. I felt like I was on the outside looking in.
“But with Celia,” he continued, “it just happened. Like I said, for once I let someone pick me up.”
“Meaning that you’re approached often and that lots of people try to get you into bed,” I concluded.
“You know it’s true.”
I did. He was eye candy and a doctor, for heaven’s sake. “Go on.”
“She was different, and I was drunk.”
“You’ve been drunk before.”
“She was different, then.”
“A surgeon, right?”
“Cord?” he asked, wanting to know how I knew.
“Of course Cord. So she’s a surgeon and really smart like you.”
“Like me,” he echoed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against his hand. “Yeah, I’m fucking brilliant all right.”
It was funny to think that I had been defending his brain to Eric the night before. “So she comes on to you, and you, what, ended up going with her to her room?”
“No,” he sighed, letting out a deep breath. “We talked for hours. We closed the bar.”
“Really,” I murmured wistfully. “Those are the best kinds of talks.”
“Tracy, it wasn’t like—”
“What did you talk about?” I interrupted. It was like a documentary series I would have watched, the how and why of the affair. I liked learning the ins and outs of relationships. Those and documentaries about serial killers. I couldn’t get enough of them.
“I don’t remember,” he said, seeming to dismiss the idea that it was important enough to recall. “I just know that after that, she suggested we continue our conversation in her room.”
“Okay. What then?”
His gaze flicked to mine, and I could tell he was uncomfortable. It had to be hard, like being on the witness stand, recounting what had occurred. “Is this really necessary?”
“No,” I replied honestly. “You don’t have to tell me. You can just go now and—”
“We—” He stopped for a moment, and I noted how exhausted he looked. “We were in her room, on the bed…” He trailed off, watching me, and I saw him deflate suddenly, the look in his eyes, the expression, pleading for me to stop. And he could. He knew he could. But the minute he did, he had to go. “And then she said I was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.”
“As I’m sure you were. You still are.” I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. And it wasn’t his confession that did it, that made me react like that. It was simply that, once upon a time, I thought he was only mine.