Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)

She finished her wine before she returned it to the table. “Born and raised. There’s no city in the world quite like it.”

“Do you miss it?”

She shrugged. “Being in a place like this makes me resent all the traffic, the people, the noise, and the pollution. My skin looks better than it ever has, and my lungs feel like they can breathe for the first time. So no, I guess I don’t miss it. I used to love that place but now that I’ve been here...don’t love it as much.”

At least she was enjoying herself at my estate. She lived a life of luxury. She was waited on hand-and-foot, and she was in the presence of the most beautiful valley in all the world. “Have you spoken to your parents since you went your separate ways?” Her file told me a lot about her, but it didn’t tell me the details only a recount could give.

“No.” Her voice was absent of bitterness. “I doubt they care. I was an accident they didn’t know what to do with. Living in foster care was difficult. Living on the streets was difficult too. But I’d rather go through that again than be anywhere near them.”

I didn’t flinch at the resentment in her voice. My father and I butted heads through the years, but that was because we were both so controlling. He knocked me around when I disagreed with him but that made me push harder. But I did respect him. I was much better off than she ever was. “Were you ever adopted?”

“Once. It was this nice family in Manhattan. I liked the wife and the husband. But then she became pregnant and they realized they couldn’t afford to keep me. So they sent me back.”

My expression didn’t change but I felt my heart twist into a knot. To be welcomed into a family and then replaced when the real child came along must have been traumatic. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

That made it worse. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. When I started college I molded into the person I was meant to be. The students didn’t know about my background so I had a clean start. That was when my life changed. Things got better and I was happy for the first time in my life—my loans aside.” She chuckled before she poured the next sample into her glass.

I admired more than ever before. She’d been through hell but still came out positive. She could have a pity party for herself but never did. She pushed on and never gave up.

She reminded me of myself.

“Did you have a boyfriend in college?” The idea made me sick. There were other men before me. There would be men after me. The idea shouldn’t bother me. In fact, I shouldn’t even blink at the thought. But I did. I asked a question without wanting the answer.

“Yes.” She smiled at the memory. “Jason. He was a nice guy.”

She spoke fondly of her ex. That was a rare sight. “Why did you break up?”

“He was two years older than me, so he graduated at the end of my sophomore year. He got a job in California and the long-distance situation just wasn’t working. We went our separate ways—as friends.” He was the only memory she spoke highly of. Everything else was full of darkness.

“Do you still keep in contact with him?”

“We text each other on and off sometimes. But nothing too intimate. I never asked if he was seeing anyone and he never asked me. It was one thing we silently agreed on.”

Now he started to sound like the one who got away. I grew more uncomfortable by the second, feeling an inexplicable rage deep in my gut. The fact she loved a man was still fond of him burned my skin all the way to the bone. Her past life shouldn’t matter to me. Her future shouldn’t matter to me either. But it disturbed in a profound way. “Did you sleep with him?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips. “I was in college. Hell yeah, I slept with him.”

That answer just made me more tense. I wanted to change the subject because I was growing more uncomfortable by the second. I kept my face stoic but my hand gripped the glass so tightly it was about to shatter. “Which wine is your favorite?”

She surveyed the bottles on the table and chewed her inner lips as she tried to come to a conclusion. “The second one.”

One of mine.

“What’s yours?”

“I can’t answer that question.”

“Why not?”

“Conflict of interest.”

“This isn’t an interview with the paper. You’re talking to me.”

I leaned forward and examined the bottles. “The second one.”

“Good. It would be awkward if you preferred someone else’s wine over yours.”

“I suppose.” I set my empty glass down. “Are your ready to go?” We’d dined and wined. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. I wanted her underneath me on the bed. I wanted to fuck away her memory of that pathetic boyfriend of hers. How could he let her slip away? Sounded like a goddamn idiot to me.