Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I decided to come clean. “I’ve been thinking about Mallory a lot lately.”
Benny mouthed what I’d just told him—I’ve been thinking about Mallory a lot lately. “I know,” he said. “I heard.”
Heard? I squinted. “You heard what?”
“She’s getting married. That’s what you’re talking about, right?”
It felt like those words cut right through my chest. I was so confused. He did say married, didn’t he?
“Married?”
“Yeah. I thought that’s why you were upset. I saw it on her Facebook page. She posted a photo of her hand and the ring and the…” He seemed to realize from my face that this news was a shock to me. “Oh shit. You didn’t know.”
My appetite suddenly disappeared. “No.” I stared off into space. “No, I didn’t know.”
My ex, Mallory, and I were together for four years. Even though our breakup had been almost two years ago, I hadn’t really been able to shake her. She’d blocked me some time ago from seeing any of her posts on social media. Blocking me was the last straw in the destruction of our tumultuous but passionate relationship.
I had known she was seeing someone. I didn’t realize how serious it was.
Benny was staring at me. “Are you alright, man?”
I’d told myself I’d accepted the breakup. But this was the first moment I truly realized I must have been holding out hope that we’d get back together someday. It was the first time I really understood that wasn’t going to happen. It felt like a death in a way, perhaps one I needed to experience to fully get over her.
My chest felt raw. “Yeah. I’m good.” When the waiter came back around, I said, “Can I have another Macallan?”
He nodded and went to fetch my drink.
Benny broke off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. “Hope you don’t mind, I invited that girl Shera I’m seeing and her friend to join us for lunch.”
My brow lifted. “Her friend?” That could only mean one thing.
“Yeah. She wanted to meet you. She’s not an actress. I don’t think she wants any favors like that. I think she just wants to fuck you, to be honest, so she can tell people she slept with Ryder McNamara.”
“Great.”
When I stared off, he slammed his hand down on the table, causing some of the silverware to go flying.
Jesus.
“You still down about the Mallory thing? Man, fuck her! Forget about it. She friggin’ dumped you. It’s been two years. Now she’s with some…nobody. Move on from that shit.”
I couldn’t blame Benny for trying to rationalize with me. He’d never known the full story of what went down between Mal and me—why I took most of the blame for what happened between us, even though she was the one who ended it. I’d never shared the full story with anyone. He might have felt differently if he knew the truth.
The waiter brought my whiskey, and I downed it.
Two girls approached our table.
A tall redhead waved. “Hey. Sorry we’re late.”
Benny placed his hand around the redhead’s waist. “Ryder, this is Shera. And this is her friend—what’s your name again?”
She answered him but looked right at me. “Ainsley.”
Ainsley.
As the third Macallan hit me, I suddenly felt very self-destructive.
Ainsley, I think you’re gonna get lucky today.
***
I came home that night feeling like I needed a shower.
I’d ended up going to Ainsley’s apartment and angry-fucking her while imagining she was Mallory. She had the same black hair, so it was easy to visualize. I was a sick fuck. I regretted it but couldn’t take it back.
She didn’t seem to mind a minute of it, though. We both came hard, and she had a huge smile on her face. Then, per usual, I immediately just wanted to go home. Fucking-and-running had never felt good to me, but the sex only felt great in the moment. When it was over, the immediate need to flee always set in.
Fortunately, this girl had no expectations, so I didn’t even have to pretend. Easy in, easy out. Still, the older I got, the crappier that scenario felt. At twenty-eight, I had started to want more than just a quick fuck. I just didn’t think I was going to find the right person out here.
Anyway, my shower was a walk-in. It was more like a wet room with elaborate glass tile that changed colors depending on the level of heat. It was my favorite part of the house.
As the water poured down on me, I started to think again about the bomb Benny had dropped on me earlier today. My relationship with Mallory flashed before my eyes like a movie on fast forward. Then a tear fell from my eye.
Fuck.
Throughout the entire breakup, and everything that had gone on before, I’d never once cried—until now. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried at all—probably my mother’s funeral. Granted, this was only one tear, but it was one freaking tear too many.