Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
He’d barely groveled. Just claimed that he didn’t love her. That it helped promote the movie. As if saying that to me, of all people, would make it okay.
I’d expected to feel fierce anger and disgust in his presence. That was all I’d felt the last time I saw him. But it had been months since I saw him. I’d expected him to look different. To be run-down by our impending divorce. Somehow, he still looked like Josh.
Cookie-cutter, perfect Josh with his surfer-boy blond hair, award-winning smile, and to-die-for blue eyes. He pulled off his peacoat, and underneath he wore designer jeans with a gray T-shirt. Simple but effective. That was his style. Who he was as a person. Or at least, I’d thought so.
My throat bobbed, and my stomach squeezed. My insides felt like my outsides, and my outsides felt like my insides. I was upside down. I didn’t feel like the woman who had just been prepared to attack an intruder. I felt like the jaded woman who had met Josh at a party, assuming he was a goody-two-shoes that I’d have no interest in. Instead, he’d held my attention all night, been a complete gentleman, and insisted on taking me out for a proper date before trying to get in my pants. It had been revolutionary in my world. My sea of asshole suitors.
And then he’d turned out just like all the others.
Josh set the glass on the counter. “It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?”
He blew out a short breath. “I’m on tour for Bourne. I’ll be in New York for a couple days, running the circuit of talk shows. I had to see you. I miss you like crazy.”
He reached out for me, but I stepped back.
“So, Celeste is with you.”
“She’s in the city. She’s not with me. We’re not together.” He looked repentant when he said it.
I crossed my arms and nodded. I didn’t know why I cared. But the thought of him starting a relationship with the person he’d cheated on me with made me want to set something on fire.
“You’re the one I want, English.” He stepped forward again and brushed his hand against my arm. His eyes zeroed in on my sweatshirt. “What are you wearing?”
I glanced down and froze. Fuck. I’d completely forgotten that I’d thrown on Court’s Harvard Lacrosse sweatshirt this morning. I’d snagged it at his house the other day when I was cold.
“Uh, it’s a client’s,” I said defensively.
“You’re wearing your client’s sweatshirt?” His eyes narrowed. “Is this the same client that I saw in the picture with you?”
“Yes. And not that I have to justify anything to you, but that was, as always, fake paparazzi bullshit.”
“And the sweatshirt?”
“I was cold,” I ground out.
He let his hand drop. “Are you together?”
“I am not having this conversation with you, Josh. You don’t get to barge into my apartment, unannounced, and start making accusations.”
“I thought we could make this work,” Josh said. His eyes were wide. He’d really deluded himself into thinking it would happen. “I thought that once I finally saw you, you’d realize that we were making a horrible mistake. You’re the one I want. You’ve always been it for me.”
“You were it for me, too, Josh,” I whispered. “But then you broke my trust.”
“And you think trust can never be mended?” he demanded.
“I know it can’t,” I bit out.
“I’m not like your father. This isn’t your parents’ marriage. We can fix this. We can go to counseling. We can make it work.” He was so earnest. So fucking earnest. “I love you, English.”
My throat closed up. It’d be so easy to say yes. To just forgive and forget. To get back what I’d thought was forever. We’d move back to LA. We’d go to therapy. Life would move on. We’d get through it.
But… I deserved better than that.
I deserved so much better.
“I can never trust you again,” I said softly. I hardly sounded like myself. I felt like I was breaking open all over again.
“Please, just give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
I looked him directly in his eyes. “When someone shows you who they really are, believe them.”
“This isn’t really me,” he said, gently massaging his throat. “The person who did those things… that isn’t the real me.”
“Oh, so someone else cheated on me? Your alter ego?”
“It was a publicity stunt. I told you that from the beginning. I didn’t even want to do it. But my publicist said it was the way to save the movie.”
I froze in place. My head tilted slightly. But my entire world tilted with it.
“What did you just say?”
“It’s like I told you in London. It was a publicity stunt.”
“You said that, but you never told me that your publicist had told you to do it.” I put my hand to my heart. “Margery told you to fuck Celeste to help the movie?”