night club…a love nest for two?”
“You’ve been spying on me?”
He blew out a tentative breath. “You can have so much more than what he’s giving you.”
“Wait just a minute.” She dared to meet his incredible eyes, and, as she thought, all those horrid memories came crashing back ten-fold. A machete would have done less damage to her heart than Sixten had. “I deserved more than walking in on you screwing my matron of honor in our future marriage bed .”
“This isn’t going the way I’d planned.” He said sourly.
“At our engagement party,” she had the courage to ignore him and go on. “That’s pretty heavy for an eighteen year old, you know? Now, I would’ve beaten the crap out of you two and turned myself into the cops. That’s what you deserved. But then , I ran out crying.” She sucked in a breath. “And you had the audacity to go downstairs and tell everyone I loved, family and longtime friends gathered for our celebration, that I was drunk.”
“I don’t think it went exactly that way.”
“And the next day,” she said, sensing white ash float above her inner volcano, “you didn’t apologize. In fact, you’ve never apologized.”
“I’m sure I did.”
“You made me feel like a stupid a child.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“And I was a stupid child,” she snapped, hating that her bottom lip quivered over something that happened a lifetime ago. However, with him sitting so close to her, it didn’t feel like a long time ago. The day she left him ingrained itself in her heart. She remembered the horrific scene vividly as if it happened hours past instead of years gone by on Captiva Island…
Packing and cramming, all her stuff would have to fit in one trip. She couldn’t afford movers, and miraculously, she had one extra set of strong hands alongside a borrowed truck.
“You’re a fool. Walking away is not your style,” Six taunted. “You’ll have nothing without me, but you’ll want for everything if you leave. Everything I can give you, which no one else can. Don’t be stupid.” He slid his designer, space-age glasses down his nose; no doubt, they cost more than her borrowed, dilapidated truck was worth. His self-absorbed look said it all: He held the world in one casual palm. He could crush it, toy with it, or leave it alone. Blythe voted for the latter.
“Could you snag that last box, Ryan?” Blythe wiped her sweaty palms on her comfortable, ratty jeans. After crying all night and perspiring all morning, she felt dehydrated, though it was a good thing. If a single tear fell in front of Sixten, she’d never be able to look in the mirror again.
Cheap sunglasses hid her puffy eyes, and creamy, taupe lipstick replaced the smile she couldn’t give the general population. The one that said life was great, and she didn’t give a flying fig what Sixten did anymore. At least, that was the lie she told herself.
“Oh, please, Ryan.” Sixten mocked. “Snag that last box, would you? What other tricks does he do for you, Blythe? He hasn’t said a word since he’s been here.”
“He’s not in the middle of this, and he’s smart enough to stay out of our discussions.”
“Is that what this is?” He stepped forward. One menacing and strategic step had him staring down from an inflated height roughly a foot above her head. She realized then that Sixten was always indefinable, even to her. Sixten defied the laws of …anything. “This,” he gestured at the half-filled truck bed, “is your idea of a discussion?”
“You slept with my best friend, and I had the privilege to walk in on it.” The only indication of emotion he displayed, if one could call it that, was a knot that quickly formed in his jaw. “What an engagement present,” she drew out the words, thoroughly disgusted with him. “That little visual saved me from the worst mistake
“You’ve been spying on me?”
He blew out a tentative breath. “You can have so much more than what he’s giving you.”
“Wait just a minute.” She dared to meet his incredible eyes, and, as she thought, all those horrid memories came crashing back ten-fold. A machete would have done less damage to her heart than Sixten had. “I deserved more than walking in on you screwing my matron of honor in our future marriage bed .”
“This isn’t going the way I’d planned.” He said sourly.
“At our engagement party,” she had the courage to ignore him and go on. “That’s pretty heavy for an eighteen year old, you know? Now, I would’ve beaten the crap out of you two and turned myself into the cops. That’s what you deserved. But then , I ran out crying.” She sucked in a breath. “And you had the audacity to go downstairs and tell everyone I loved, family and longtime friends gathered for our celebration, that I was drunk.”
“I don’t think it went exactly that way.”
“And the next day,” she said, sensing white ash float above her inner volcano, “you didn’t apologize. In fact, you’ve never apologized.”
“I’m sure I did.”
“You made me feel like a stupid a child.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“And I was a stupid child,” she snapped, hating that her bottom lip quivered over something that happened a lifetime ago. However, with him sitting so close to her, it didn’t feel like a long time ago. The day she left him ingrained itself in her heart. She remembered the horrific scene vividly as if it happened hours past instead of years gone by on Captiva Island…
Packing and cramming, all her stuff would have to fit in one trip. She couldn’t afford movers, and miraculously, she had one extra set of strong hands alongside a borrowed truck.
“You’re a fool. Walking away is not your style,” Six taunted. “You’ll have nothing without me, but you’ll want for everything if you leave. Everything I can give you, which no one else can. Don’t be stupid.” He slid his designer, space-age glasses down his nose; no doubt, they cost more than her borrowed, dilapidated truck was worth. His self-absorbed look said it all: He held the world in one casual palm. He could crush it, toy with it, or leave it alone. Blythe voted for the latter.
“Could you snag that last box, Ryan?” Blythe wiped her sweaty palms on her comfortable, ratty jeans. After crying all night and perspiring all morning, she felt dehydrated, though it was a good thing. If a single tear fell in front of Sixten, she’d never be able to look in the mirror again.
Cheap sunglasses hid her puffy eyes, and creamy, taupe lipstick replaced the smile she couldn’t give the general population. The one that said life was great, and she didn’t give a flying fig what Sixten did anymore. At least, that was the lie she told herself.
“Oh, please, Ryan.” Sixten mocked. “Snag that last box, would you? What other tricks does he do for you, Blythe? He hasn’t said a word since he’s been here.”
“He’s not in the middle of this, and he’s smart enough to stay out of our discussions.”
“Is that what this is?” He stepped forward. One menacing and strategic step had him staring down from an inflated height roughly a foot above her head. She realized then that Sixten was always indefinable, even to her. Sixten defied the laws of …anything. “This,” he gestured at the half-filled truck bed, “is your idea of a discussion?”
“You slept with my best friend, and I had the privilege to walk in on it.” The only indication of emotion he displayed, if one could call it that, was a knot that quickly formed in his jaw. “What an engagement present,” she drew out the words, thoroughly disgusted with him. “That little visual saved me from the worst mistake
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