When Hayden walks in, time screeches to a halt. My empty stomach constricts at the sight of him. All the hurt and betrayal I felt in Omaha comes flooding back with a motherfucking vengeance. It took me days before I could even start moving on—but this bastard never had anything to move on from. He played me like a violin, got what he wanted from me, and then hooked up with his ex the very next night.
And he looks as delicious as ever. That just adds insult to injury. He stomped my heart into the dirt and my body still wants a piece of him. Everything about this is so incredibly unfair. I try to grasp that anger, draw on it, and let it strengthen my resolve again.
Hayden’s expression seems kind of pissed off too. As soon as his blue eyes meet mine, though, his irritation fades into what looks almost like regret. “You want to move?” he asks.
What I want is to spit a defiant yes at him and swish out of here like a diva. He didn’t ask why I’m canceling my lease; he knows damn well what this is about. But I’m suddenly not sure if I can trust my voice, so instead, I just nod at him.
“Okay,” Hayden replies in a carefully neutral tone that I can’t read. He turns to the building manager. “Go ahead and cancel Miss Winters’s lease. No penalty.”
And with that, he walks out the office door, leaving both of us speechless. Hayden still seems pretty upset under his flat, even facade. But not at me.
At himself? Why, when he was the one who tossed me aside in the first place?
I hesitate, anxiety warring with curiosity, and anger playing both sides of the field. Then I shake my head and stomp after Hayden. It’s time for me to get back to work . . . but before I can do that, I need to lay this mystery to rest. Or else it will never leave me alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Hayden
It’s been several days since I saw Emery, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I watch her approach. She’s in one of her trademark fitted dark suit jackets and pencil skirts, and she looks beautiful, smart, and put together. It makes me miss her even more. Her heels click loudly across the sidewalk as she moves with purpose toward me.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” she asks, venom in her tone. If she was subdued in the leasing office, now she’s full of fire.
A stabbing pain flares in my chest when our eyes connect. “That I’m an asshole, and you were right all along.” The words come from someplace deep inside me, so I know they’re true.
“You just up and leave me in a hotel room in Nebraska, turn off your phone and, what . . . start fucking Roxy? Just for fun? Just to see if you could royally fuck me over like everyone warned me about?” Her voice is loud and angry, but her eyes well with tears at those last words.
“You don’t know anything about me and Roxy.”
Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. “No. You’re right. I don’t. Because you never told me anything about you and Roxy! I opened up to you so many times, and you couldn’t do the same.”
Glancing around, I see a few of the nosier tenants have gathered on the sidewalk and are watching our spectacle.
“Come with me. There’s something I need to tell you.”
She narrows her eyes, and for a second I think she’s going to refuse me. But then I say, “Please,” and her gaze softens. She might not want to hear my explanation, but something in her needs to hear it. Closure, I’m guessing.
“Okay.” Her tone is defeated, and I hate that. Her usual spark has faded, and everything in me wants to fix it. Part of me wants her to yell and scream and hit me, but she doesn’t, even though I deserve that and more.
She follows me upstairs to my place, and when we enter, I can hear Dottie humming from the other room. I forgot she was here. One sighting of Emery and my head went completely blank, I guess.
Dottie pokes her head out from my bedroom. “Hi, boss. Didn’t know you’d be back this morning.”
“Dottie, could you excuse us, please?”
Her brows pinch together as she glances between me and Emery. Emery is visibly upset, with her hands balled up tightly by her sides and her face red.
“Sure,” Dottie says slowly.
“You can take the rest of the day off. Paid. Take your grandson to the beach or something,” I suggest.
She nods, and scurries out the door moments later.
Then it’s just the two of us left alone in my condo. Bright sunlight streams in through the windows, and it’s too quiet.
“You’re going to move out?” I ask.
“What did you expect me to do, Hayden? Continue living here where I have to see you every day? No thanks. I have more respect for myself than that.” She plants her hands on her hips. “But I didn’t come up here to explain myself to you. You said you had something you needed to tell me.”
“Right.” I nod. “Please come sit down.”
We go into the living room and Emery takes a seat on the couch, her posture as straight as an arrow. She watches me warily. I wonder if the real reason she wants to move out is because being near me is painful to her, which would mean she has feelings for me. Or maybe it’s just that she’s pissed off and hates my guts. Either way, I have to take a chance.
“This isn’t easy for me, but there are some things I need to get off my chest.”
She crosses her arms in front of her. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“Roxy and I have a past.” Fucking understatement of the year.
“No shit,” she mutters under her breath. “You think I’ve just now figured that out? I saw her sneak out of your place late the other night—just after we had been together. She ducked out of here so fast, clearly doing the walk of shame.” She rolls her eyes for dramatic effect.
“That night, I asked her to come over to set things right between us. Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re implying. I haven’t slept with anyone else since you.”
“And you just expect me to believe you? Take that at face value?”
“I’m an asshole and an idiot, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never once lied to you.”
She works her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I have to start at the beginning, or I won’t get this right.” Rubbing one hand over the back of my neck, I take a deep breath. “Her real name is Naomi. Roxy’s just a stage name. I knew her before she was Roxy, long before she was a stripper. We met in college. She was a dance major, believe it or not.”
I look up to see Emery’s reaction. Her mouth is hanging open.
“We dated for three years. I was crazy about her. I loved her free spirit, her straightforward outlook on life. She always seemed wise beyond her years, nothing like the bubblegum-chewing sorority girls who would give me doe eyes and then whine when I didn’t ask them out. Naomi was confident. Fun. She didn’t need a man. It made me want to be around her even more. Honestly, the way she was back then . . . kind of reminds me of you.”
I meant it as a compliment, but I have no idea if Emery takes it that way. Her expression remains impassive as she waits for me to continue.
“Our junior year, she broke her ankle in three places in a bad roller-blading accident, and had to have a couple of surgeries. It ended up costing her the dance scholarship that paid for her college, and she eventually dropped out of school. Things changed between us after that. She became . . . resentful, even though I tried to be as supportive as I could. I even had her move in with me, because she needed extra help getting around while she was recovering. But being together twenty-four/seven only seemed to make things worse between us.”