Billionaire Beast

She has a tendency to be a little dramatic sometimes.

“I’ve got a place,” she says. “Ty’s been renting for us for over a year.”

“Great,” I answer, trying to keep my anger from boiling up to the surface. I pull the phone out of my pocket and pull up the number for the movers I found the night she went to LA.

I hand her the phone. It’s already ringing.

“Yeah, hi,” she says. “I need to hire a couple of guys to help me move. Today would be perfect, if we could work that out…”

She walks out of the room to give the specifics, as apparently, she doesn’t want me to know where her fuck pad is.

I really couldn’t care less about that. There’s a lot to hurt about right now, but knowing where they’ve been doing what they’ve been doing doesn’t matter in the slightest.

She comes back into the room and lobs the phone more at me than to me.

“It’s going to cost an extra couple hundred bucks, but they’re going to have some people come over in the next hour or so,” she says.

“That’s good,” I tell her. “Until then, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

If we’re going to be stuck in here together for an hour, I may as well try to make it as civil as possible.

Even with everything, I don’t hate her. I don’t even think she’s a fundamentally bad person. What pisses me off about the situation isn’t so much that she’s been cheating on me — although that’s not particularly fun — it’s that she’s been lying all this time.

That’s really the worst part about a situation like this. It would be bad enough if she came to me one day and told me what was going on, but having to find out on my own and then finding out later that she just kept on lying…it makes me feel like such an idiot.

If she’d been honest, maybe I could have seen a future for us, though things have been pretty fucked up for a long, long time. But just that simple, small level of honesty would have told me that she cared enough to try.

That’s over now.

“Breakfast?” she asks. Yeah, it took her that long to respond.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’ve got stuff for French toast and eggs. That’s still your favorite, right?”

“Why would you make me breakfast?”

After running through the reasons in my own head, I’m a little annoyed at having to explain it out loud, so I simply tell her, “Because I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah,” she says. “French toast and eggs sounds great.”

“All right. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“Okay,” she says, almost hanging her head.

So, I make breakfast. Nice guy that I am, I don’t even try to poison her food.

Even before I found out about her and her boss, I knew that I wasn’t happy. If anything, I should be thanking her for setting me free.

Okay, I’m not that nice a guy.

Still, I don’t know how long I would have stuck with the relationship if it weren’t for her and Ty. Although, I will say that having met Grace, I can’t be certain it would have been too much longer.

After I kissed Grace that night we sent my new ex and her adulterer to different corners of the country, I didn’t feel right staying. I wanted to kiss her, and it felt damn good doing it, but I wanted to be free and clear before anything happened.

Unfortunately, she hasn’t been answering my phone calls.

I left her a message last night, letting her know that I’d set up a meeting between her and Dr. Marcum, my old mentor from med school, but if she got the message, she didn’t let me know.

“Do you need a hand in there?” Melissa calls from the living room.