“It’s not a competition, babe. You were dealt a shit hand. I was dealt a shit hand. It’s all shit in the end.”
Yeah. It was. But some shit stank worse than others. He had every right to wallow in anger and hatred. It spoke to the type of man he was and the strength of his character that he chose not to. The more she learned of him, the more he appealed to her in a way she’d never intended. She’d assumed so many things about him at first, including that he’d be a bossy, possessive, controlling man, and all of them were proving to be wrong. He had many layers, and each one she peeled back revealed a man she was drawn to.
She needed to be careful around him. As much as she liked him, she couldn’t let a man get past her defenses. Evan hadn’t a monster in the beginning, either. Though if she were honest, she knew she’d ignored a host of red flags with her ex-husband.
“You ever hear from him?”
“Who?”
“Your fuckwad of an ex.”
“Oh. God, no. Not anymore. Not for about three years or so. He still lives in Silicon Valley. Or at least he did a year or so ago. I assume he’s still there. The house we owned was gifted to him by his parents when they decided to downsize.” She picked up a fry, twirling it with her fingers. She’d never liked the house. Too gaudy and ornate for her tastes. She preferred simplicity, comfort, and function. The home they’d lived in was practically a museum to affluence.
“Anyway, after the divorce, he used to call every once in a while. The calls would start with apologies and all kinds of sweet promises for a better future if I’d just come back.” She grunted, recalling the final phone call where she’d recorded him and threatened to share it with everyone he knew. “He’d always call from a different number, so I couldn’t just block him. Then he’d turn ugly when I refused him or threatened to hang up. After a time, I stopped answering calls from any number I didn’t recognize, and he’d leave furious voicemails. Eventually the calls grew less frequent, and then they stopped.” She shrugged. “Last I saw from the one mutual contact we still have on social media, he’d found some other poor woman to fall for his bullshit. Someone new to torture. Gave him something to focus on besides me. I haven’t heard from him since.” She popped the fry in her mouth and chewed slowly. “Although who knows. Maybe she was the picture-perfect trophy wife he’d been searching for all along, and they’re living happily ever after. God knows I never lived up to his expectations.”
She sipped her lemonade and let the sweetness wash away bitter memories.
Curly grunted. “You can’t possibly believe that bullshit.” His voice was like iron. He stared at her with the intensity of a man who shouldn’t be trifled with. “Men—no, he shouldn’t even be called a man—assholes like him aren’t happy with anything or anyone they have because they’re rotten at their core. Spoiled babies who always think they deserve more or better. He already had the best, and that fucker couldn’t appreciate her for shit, so whoever he’s married to now will only disappoint him even more.”
He bit into his sandwich and gazed out over the water once again as though his words hadn’t rocked her. He spoke the sweet words so casually she almost didn’t believe she’d heard them.
He already had the best…
Her. He’d meant her, right?
How else could she interpret it?
He’d already been sweeter to her than her husband had been for most of their marriage. Imagine being married to a man who thought she was the best? Would it have been different than what she’d experienced, or would it have soured in the end anyway?
She should thank him for the compliments, but with each passing second, she grew to like the man more. That was fine as long as those feelings stayed confined to friendship which she feared would be difficult. If he wasn’t so damned sexy, if he didn’t appeal to her every buried desire, if their chemistry wouldn’t have made the gulf water boil, it’d be so much easier to keep the lines from blurring.
But he was all of those things and their chemistry was off the charts. She wanted him. And she liked him. A very dangerous combination that once led to her losing her dreams, her friends and family, and her identity.
Never again.
So instead of thanking him and possibly treading on dangerous ground by deepening their connection, she said, “Heavy topics.” Then she cleared her throat. “So, how’s Harley doing at home?”
He grinned, and the weight of their personal issues lifted. “Great. She’s cute as fuck.” Then he winced. Not sure your stance on dogs sleeping in the bed since you’re a trainer, but she snuggles right next to me all night.” He chuckled. “Thought I’d hate sharing a bed with a woman after sleeping alone for so many years, but she doesn’t hog the blankets or put cold feet on me, so it’s all good.”