A bubble of hysteria slips out as the song on the fucking speakers assaults my ears as I try to calm myself and look for a way out other than back through the ballroom. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. Like that song couldn’t be any more perfect at this fucking moment.
I press my hands against a table in the hall and try to catch my breath. The replay of his mouth on that skank, so blatantly in my face, makes my stomach turn. What the hell am I doing here? Trying to reconcile? Who is this woman that I've become? And I was willing to compromise my own morals for him? I hear the door open behind me. I try to straighten up and dash away the tears from my eyes.
“Rylee…”
I glance back at Colton, so completely done with him. How many times am I going to walk headfirst into heartbreak without learning from my own stupidity? “Go away, Colton! Leave me alone!”
“Rylee, I didn’t mean it.”
This time I turn around. Colton stands a few feet from me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, eyes utterly apologetic. But I’m not falling for it this time. I cross my arms across my chest, a useless protection over my heart. “Fuck you! For someone so hung up on me, you sure do move fast, Ace! You definitely earned the nickname now!”
His eyes search mine, questioning my comment, but he doesn’t ask it once he notices my fists clenching and unclenching in anger.
“It’s not what you think, Rylee.”
“I’m so sick of hearing you say that! Not what I think?” I say, raising my voice. “I just watched you shove your tongue down some bimbo’s throat and it’s not what I think?” How stupid does he think I am? I start to laugh. Really laugh. Almost in hysterics, the push and pull of emotions from the day almost too much to bear. “Oh wait. You didn’t mean to with that skank, but you did with all of the others of your BBB that you fucked while trying to win me back? Pretending it was me you wanted? Just tell me one thing, Ace…did you get a good laugh at my expense?”
Colton grabs my upper arm, his fingers digging in to my skin. His grip is so tight that when I try to recoil from his touch, I can’t. “What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. About?” he says quietly. “Who—”
“Raquel. Tawny. Who else, Ace? Cassie? Did they give you what you needed? Sit on their knees patiently and kiss your feet like a good girl should? Take what you give and shut the fuck up otherwise? Did you order the flowers for me in between screwing them?”
Colton’s fingers grip harder to the point that I think I’ll have bruises tomorrow. His eyes pierce into mine. “Do you mind explaining to me—”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you!” I yank my arm from his grasp. “To think I was coming down here to try and fix things between us. To apologize for being stubborn. To tell you I believed you.” I shake my head in defeat, and I start to walk away but turn back. Hurt consuming every fiber of my being. “Tell me something…you said they weren’t whores, but you pay Tawny a salary right?” I arch my brow and I know by the look on his face that my implication is understood.
“She works for me,” he says, releasing one of my arms and shoving his hand through his hair. “I pay her because she does her job. I can’t fire her because you don’t li—”
“Yes. You can.” I scream at him. “And it’s not that I don’t like her. I fucking hate her! You fucked her, Colton. Fucked! Her! I think your choice is pretty fucking obvious. Don’t you?”
“Rylee…”
“You know what, Colton? You make me sick. I should’ve trusted my gut instinct when it came to you the first time around. You really are nothing but a whore.”
When I stop and wipe the tears from my eyes that I didn’t even realize were flowing, Colton still remains standing there, his face stoic and his eyes hard as steel. When he speaks, his voice is low and unforgiving. “Well if I’m going to be accused of it—lose the one girl I choose because of her misperception and absolute obstinance—then I might as well do it.”
I stop mid-motion at his words. So sarcastic. So accusatory. I meet his eyes and my breath catches in my throat before closing them and taking a deep breath as his comment sinks in. My world spirals in black, looping with confusion that just became quite clear. It’s the first time that he hasn’t denied sleeping with her. He didn’t confess—I didn’t hear the words come from his mouth—but he didn’t deny it either. Pain staggers through my chest as I focus on trying to breathe—on trying to think—but he just keeps talking. My fractured heart shatters and splinters into a million pieces.
“This is how I’m used to dealing with pain, Rylee. I’m not proud of it, but I use women to cover up the hurt. I lose myself in them to block everything out.” He hangs his head for a second as my mind tries to grasp the shock waves his words create.
He’s just told me two things, and I’m not sure which one my scattered mind can focus on. His admission causes his comment from several weeks ago to float into my head. The comment he made in my house the morning after our first time sleeping together. How his 747 of baggage makes him crave the sensory overload of physicality—the stimulating indulgence of skin on skin. But why?
And at what point is a convenient explanation just a bullshit excuse for a playboy caught in his own lies? An opportune way for the man who always gets what he wants, to well, get what he wants. I can love the broken in him, but I can’t accept the lies any more.
“You told me the other day that we’re over. I’ll be the first to admit it’s fucked up, but I’m coping the only way I know how,” he says.
I search his face, looking so far within him that it scares me. I can see the pain in his eyes. Can hear the hesitation and utter shame in his confession. Is this what I want? A man who every time we have an argument or every time he gets spooked about our relationship turns to someone else? Runs off to another woman to help lessen the pain? I told him I loved him. I didn’t tell him I want to marry him and be the mother of his unwanted children for God’s sake.
“So you’re telling me that I’m so important to you that if you bag some unmemorable chick, you’ll forget me?” I shake my head at him. “That if we’re together, every time the going gets tough you’ll run off with Tawny or another willing candidate? Gee, you're really building the foundation of a great relationship here.” He tries to interrupt me, but I just hold up my hand to stop him. “Colton…” I sigh. “Coming to talk to you tonight was obviously a mistake. The more you talk, the more I’m really starting to realize I don’t know you at all.”
“You know me better than anyone!” he shouts, taking a step closer as I take one back. “I’ve never had to explain anything to anyone…I’m not doing a good job at it.”
“You can say that again,” I snip back at him.
“Let’s get out of here and talk.”
“Colton?” a seductive female voice calls to him from over my shoulder. Everything in my body tenses at the sound. Colton’s face blanches.
“Out!” He grates between gritted teeth at her.
I unclench my jaw and take in a deep breath. “Talking’s overrated. Besides, it’s obvious you found someone to help you bury the hurt.” I nod my head toward the door behind me. “And you know what? I think it’s time I try it too.” I shrug. “See if finding a guy for the night fixes everything like you seem to think it does.”
“No!” The pained look of desperation on his face upsets me, but I’m so far past caring right now. So far past feeling. So numb.