Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Ugh. I need to stop thinking about him. Delete him from my mind the way I did from my phone.
So that’s exactly what I try to do for the next few days: I refuse to talk about him no matter how hard Emma pries. I even manage to resist Emma’s most enhanced interrogation technique—a shopping trip for Manolo Blahniks.
Chapter 12
Ashton
Marcus and I are covered in sweat as we circle each other in the octagon.
Today is different from our usual in that Marcus seems to want to cause real damage to me. The only reason he doesn’t succeed is because we’ve been sparring together for years, and I know all his moves.
“Listen,” I say as I dodge a lightning-fast jab. “Is this about my stupid joke about the wedding?”
His reply is a low kick, which I dodge.
“I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.” Or if I did, only a little.
He swings at me again.
Fuck this. My next argument is a roundhouse kick.
And so it goes, until Marcus’s phone timer informs us that the session is over.
“So… we good?” I ask as we regain our breath in the locker room.
“Fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “Just watch what you say around Emma in the future.”
“Deal.”
The truth is, I plan to avoid Emma as much as I can because where she goes, Kendall might follow. Then again, why should I avoid my friend’s woman just because—
“Now that that’s cleared up,” Marcus says, “I’m obligated to ask: how do you know Kendall?”
Fuck. Did he just read my mind or something? “Emma didn’t tell you?”
And if she did, what did she say? That her friend had a one-night stand with me?
“No.”
I frown. “Don’t girls share shit like that?”
He shrugs. “Apparently, Emma has been pestering Kendall for over a week and hasn’t gotten any results. So whatever happened, it must’ve been very private.”
I give him a level stare. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Seriously?”
I shrug. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“A gentleman doesn’t. What does that have to do with you?”
I slam the locker door. “This conversation is over.”
“Fair enough. You’ll tell me when you’re good and ready.”
It will be a freezing day in hell when I do. “Since you brought her up, what do you know about Kendall?” I ask, and at his smug expression, I regret it instantly.
“Her family must be wealthy, or so I assume because Emma told me her parents pay most of Kendall’s bills,” he answers, smirking. “She’s a good friend to Emma. Does something in fashion. If you want to know more, I have a guy.”
He must mean the guy who put together a dossier on Emma for him. “No, thanks.” Since I know Kendall’s last name now, I can poke around on social media myself. And it won’t be a stalker move. At all.
“You’d make a great couple,” Marcus says with a bigger smirk. “Isn’t that what’s most important?”
“Fuck you.” I stride out of the locker room.
As I ride home in an Uber, I replay the cursed brunch in my head once again.
When I walked in, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve thought about Kendall often over the past three years, especially if you stretch the definition of the word “thought” to include “jerked off to.” And I’ve regretted listening to my sister and not looking up Kendall’s info at the gym right away. Three months after our one-night stand, in a moment of weakness, I caved and went to Essence to ask Gerald for her file—only to learn that the gym’s computers recently got a virus that wiped out nearly all of their data, client records included.
It was the most intense disappointment I’d ever felt, second only to discovering her gone that morning.
I told myself it was a sign that I needed to let go and forget her, to focus on other things. And I tried my hardest to do so, throwing myself wholeheartedly into my work, with the result that my business has taken off beyond my wildest dreams.
It’s possible that a part of me secretly hoped she’d come across my app or catch a glimpse of one of my media appearances and regret walking away from what we could’ve had.
And then there she was, sitting at the table with Marcus and his girlfriend, looking stylish as fuck and so beautiful it set my teeth on edge… and had other, more X-rated effects on one specific part of my body. The temptation to march over there and throw her over my shoulder so I could carry her off and demand answers—after first fucking her brains out, of course—was so strong I all but shook with it.
It took everything I had to walk over as if she meant nothing—and then to pretend like we’ve never met before. Because it was either that or cause a major scene.