The Breakup

by Erin McCarthy

Her jaw dropped. Tears filled her eyes, which shocked me. I wasn’t expecting her to be hurt, even if I did want her to come to her senses and realize this was not a great idea. I thought she would be haughty, disdainful. But she blinked back tears rapidly while I swore.

  “Bella…”

  “I don’t know,” she said, sounding stunned. “I really don’t know. I…I just…I don’t know.” For a second she looked like she might actually faint. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her breathing became shallow.

  I shook her arm. “Hey, hey. Come on, don’t scare me like that.” Alarm shot through me and I felt like the biggest prick on the planet. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she murmured. “I mean, God, how arrogant of me, right?” She gave a laugh that was slightly hysterical. “Why would you want to have sex with me after I just admitted I’m terrible in bed?”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated because she looked so vulnerable, so stricken. “That was rude.”

  Damn it, I felt like shit, which was interesting. I kind of liked that I could feel bad. Lately I had steeled myself against any emotion. Now I was the one being haughty and disdainful, which was ironic as shit. Being the guy who fucked my brother’s girlfriend had made me defensive. An asshole. I had a wall up in front of me and I didn’t care about anyone but my family.

  But suddenly I felt bad for the princess with tears in her eyes, sugar clinging to her lip.

  “I just thought, well, guys want to have sex all the time. With whoever,” she said, her voice trembling. “Isn’t that the way it works? I can tell you, and I’m not being conceited here, that guys have been trying to sleep with me since I was like thirteen. Which is gross. But true. So I just thought, I don’t know. Oh my God, how insulting is it of me that you know I have a fiancé and yet I just asked you to have sex with me? I swear, I wasn’t trying to say anything about your character.”

  That was a little too close to home. I shifted uncomfortably. The last thing I wanted her to feel guilty about was insulting my moral character. This was really getting off track. “I mean, sure, under normal circumstances I am not one to turn down no-strings-attached sex with a beautiful woman. But I just don’t think you really want me to do this.”

  Her voice was soft, but at least her eyes had focused again. “What do you mean?”

  So we really had to go there. God, I was nicer than I ever gave myself credit for, because I was going to spell this out for her and leave myself with blue balls. “So let me get this straight. You are getting married next Saturday, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And from what I can tell you are normally a pretty straitlaced and kind girl, am I right?”

  “I mean, I try to be. Kind, that is. I guess I am straitlaced. I like, you know, convention.” She took another bite of her doughnut.

  I tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling oddly tender toward her. There was more to this than what she was telling me, and she had kind of made it my business. Plus I wanted to touch her, and this was the closest I was going to get to that. “Then why in the hell do you think you could have sex with me and not regret it later when guilt comes crashing in on you?”

  “Oh, God.” She dropped the doughnut. “Because I thought maybe if I could be a freak in bed, Bradley would quit cheating on me with bar sluts.”

  Ah, suddenly it all made sense. So even beautiful rich girls were not exempt from life’s hurts. “That sucks. And I’m sorry.” I hesitated, but then figured why not? She needed to hear the truth. “But in my experience nothing you do is going to change his behavior.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you might not want to compromise your own moral standards to attempt to please him when it probably won’t even matter.” There was a reason they say “once a cheater, always a cheater.” Because it was fucking true.

  All I had to do was look in the mirror.

  I was attracted to women I couldn’t have because it was easier that way. I didn’t have to worry about falling for someone or being asked to make a commitment I knew I would fail at. My twin had always wanted that happily ever after we had never experienced growing up. Me? I had just wanted superficial fun.

  Ironically, I had wound up a father instead. I wouldn’t trade Camp for the world. Yet I still didn’t want a relationship. The very thought made me wince. A relationship was just two people repeatedly letting each other down. Like my parents.

  “I don’t know,” Bella said. “That’s so cynical.” She reached for her wineglass and sipped. She gave me a weak smile. “But thank you for being honest. And for not just figuring I was a way to get your rocks off.”

  “I’m not always the best human being,” I said, in what might be the world’s biggest understatement of the year. “But I draw the line at taking advantage of drunk girls and girls in emotional turmoil.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not going to marry him. I just wanted to get back at him.”

  Somehow I really doubted that. It felt like she was trying to save face. “You don’t seem like the revenge type either. But you are beautiful and sweet. Just so you know, in all seriousness, I’ve thought you were hot since the first second I laid eyes on you, and if you weren’t sitting here crying with that ring on your finger I definitely would fuck you.”

  Bella gave a startled laugh. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a criticism.” She thrust her glass at me. “Hey, bartender, more wine, please.”

  That made me grin. “You got it, blondie.” I filled her glass. She clearly needed to vent to a total stranger. Considering my plans for the night before she texted was just going to be me playing video games and trying not to be pissed at Ali, Bella was an improvement.

  “So you do you love your fiancé?” I asked, curious. She wouldn’t be the first person to get married for the wrong reasons if she didn’t.

  She nodded. “I do. I mean, I thought I knew him. So what does that mean, that I love someone who isn’t real?” She shuddered. “This is just so horrible. I’m sorry, I just can’t…I don’t want to talk about it.” She made a face. “Who’s the loser now?”

  I didn’t really want to talk about her fiancé or her wedding either. “So let’s change the subject. What do you do in Boston, Bella? Do you have a job or go to school or what?” I pictured her at a fashion magazine or something along those lines.

  Bella rolled her eyes. “Yes, I have a job, silly goose.”

  Never in my whole life had I been called “silly goose.” It was kind of fucking adorable, I had to say. Only Bella could have pulled that off. “What is that job?”

  “I’m a birth-mother advocate at an adoption agency.”

  That was not what I expected her to say. “Are you for real?”

  “Why do you look so shocked?” She nudged my knee with her own and gave me a small smile. “Rude.”

  I reached for my own wineglass. “I don’t know. I thought you’d do something more rich. Or glamorous.”

  “I like kids and people a lot. I’m not a scientist like my sister, and anything involving math or engineering doesn’t interest me. People interest me, and I think it’s such an amazing gift from a woman. I mean, she’s giving her baby to someone to care and nurture for life. Sure, I like fashion and entertainment, but you have to be really cutthroat to get ahead and I’m just not really like that.” She wrinkled her nose. “My mother thinks I’m lazy.”

  Her mother must be a piece of work. “How the hell is that lazy?”

  “Unambitious. There isn’t a corporate ladder. But I never cared about that. I have a psychology degree. Ironic, huh? I have a psych degree and can’t read people. I had no idea Bradley was…” She cleared her throat and gave me a forced smile. “But anyway, that’s my job.”

  There it was again. Fuck. She looked at me and I felt like shit. “I think that’s a goo
d job, and I imagine you’re awesome at it.”

  Bella was drinking faster now. “But I’m not going back in the fall. I resigned my position now that I’m getting married so I can be a corporate wife. I’m like Princess Diana.”

  She had completely lost me. “But…your name is Bella.” And had she really quit her job just to be some guy’s wife? Like that’s not a job. It’s a relationship.

  “I know that, silly.”

  Again with the silly. I grinned.

  She reached for the wine and overshot it, hitting the doughnut box with her knee. “Whoops. No, I mean, Princess Diana worked as a nursery school teacher when she started dating Prince Charles. But she was from a titled, wealthy family. The nursery school position was a pit stop to princess. Once they were married, she had royal duties.”

  I think I saw where she was going with this and it was a stretch, in my opinion. Maybe even what you would call a fake fairy tale. “What does Bradley do?”

  “He’s a property lawyer.” She attempted to lift the wine bottle up but I didn’t trust her eye-hand coordination and took it from her and poured, even though her glass was still half full.

  “With a very large trust fund.”

  Of course he was a lawyer. That guy was basically a walking cliché. “Okay, first of all that’s a far cry from royalty,” I said. “Second of all, they ended up divorced, remember?”

  The look she gave me was astonished, like that had never occurred to her. “You’re a poop.”

  I had to laugh. “And you’re drunk.”

  Her eyes were a little glassy but she leaned forward and studied me. “You’re so hot, but you know that, don’t you? Are you sure you don’t want to do things with me? To me? By me?” Her head tilted. “Wait, does that make sense?”

  Man, I was about to do something stupid. She was right. She was naïve. And very, very sexy. I just wanted a little tiny taste of Bella, aka princess. “Yeah,” I told her. “That makes total sense.”

  I closed the distance between us and took her mouth with mine.

  She tasted like sugar and wine and hot, sweet temptation.

  Chapter 4

  The plan had been to get Christian to agree to teach me how to be a sexual savant, obviously so I could show Bradley how awesome I was. Make him want me, then dump him before the wedding. But it had gone off the rails almost immediately because revenge and sexual seduction are not in my wheelhouse. Clearly. I asked him to instruct me on technique, then pointed out everything I don’t like, and expected him to leap on the offer.

  Now I was buzzed from too much wine and very little food that day from being hungover. Plus I’d eaten more sugar in the last half hour than in the entire previous year.

  Everything inside me felt flushed and frantic. I was light-headed and foggy. Buzzed. From sugar and alcohol.

  I shouldn’t have told Christian he was hot. He already knew that, I was sure, and it was tacky to say that so boldly. Especially since no matter what Bradley had done, I did have a diamond engagement ring on my finger, as he had pointed out. For now. I should be grateful that Christian had enough sense to turn me down. Or maybe he wasn’t actually attracted to me at all. I wasn’t sure.

  Until he kissed me.

  It caught me completely off guard.

  Suddenly there he was, in my space. He was masculine and broad, and his chest was tantalizingly bare, his rough fingers cupping my cheek. His pale blue eyes swept over me under lashes no man should be allowed to have. Then his lips were on mine. They say you can tell everything about a person from his kiss. What Christian’s told me was he was confident, he was sensual, he was a little demanding.

  And we had chemistry. I had only seen him a few times, but when I had I’d felt that spark, that sizzle of attraction moving between us. It hadn’t alarmed me. It was normal to look at other people and find them attractive. It didn’t mean anything.

  Until you kissed them. Then it took attraction to intent.

  Theory to reality.

  For a split second, I froze. I wanted to resist, but there was something about the way his mouth moved over me, coaxing me to relax. Demanding I relax. I heard my own sigh as if it came from someone else and I felt my shoulders drop. He moved again and his fingers worked their way into my hair. I forgot to warn him about not tugging on my extensions. I forgot that this was supposed to be a plot to win over then emotionally destroy my fiancé. I forgot I had a fiancé.

  All I knew was that his lips on mine had stoked the fire the wine had brought to life.

  When he pulled back I was panting, my nipples hard. I went for my glass, my heart thumping. “Why did you do that? I thought you said no.”

  He shrugged, his smile mischievous. “I’m impulsive sometimes. And attracted to trouble.”

  I almost choked on my wine. “Am I trouble? No one has ever called me trouble before.” The very thought was ridiculous. I didn’t break rules.

  Which didn’t explain why I was sitting on a plaid couch basically drunk with a man I didn’t really know while Bradley was back at my parents’ house.

  “You’re definitely trouble.” He shifted slightly away from me.

  I was both relieved and disappointed.

  “So tell me, Bella, why did you come to me? Instead of someone else?”

  That was easy. I had been afraid he would ask me something difficult to answer. Like why I still wanted to marry Bradley, which was what I had been implying. “Well, Sophie says Cain is an awesome teacher. She was a virgin and she said he’s been great at explaining everything and showing her how to, you know, so…I mean you’re identical twins. I figured you’d be a good option.” Plus he was hot and he seemed like a man who would keep his mouth shut.

  “Your sister was a virgin?” He looked astonished. “And she let Cain take her home? That was a bad idea.”

  I frowned at him. “There is nothing wrong with being a virgin.”

  “Not at all. But I mean, she waited this long, why Cain?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just never thought of my brother as being some sort of virgin whisperer.”

  That sounded weird. Plus, as amazing as my sister was, she was not exactly standard. “Sophie is a lot to handle. She asks a ton of questions. Like a million.”

  “Interesting.” He drained his wineglass and gave a grimace.

  “Are you jealous of your twin?” I asked, curious. He looked annoyed.

  “What? No. Fuck no. I just don’t really like wine.” He set the glass down with a clank. “We’re different people and I don’t know much about what’s going on in my brother’s life. Don’t compare me to him.”

  That made me smile a little. I felt comfortable teasing him. It tipped the balance in my favor again. “What, so you wouldn’t be a good sex instructor?”

  He stared me down, his nostrils flaring. “I’ve never thought of myself as a teacher, but if you want to come over and over while screaming my name, I’m your man.”

  Oh boy, he rose to that bait faster than I had expected. I was out of my league. I felt my insides tighten and I crossed my legs in my sundress, nervous. “I don’t think I…” Can come multiple times. Or even once. But I stopped myself, because that was far too personal to share with Christian.

  “You’re blushing, Bella.”

  I was. I could feel the heat on my cheeks. What I really wanted was to just say screw it and let Christian push me down on this couch and somehow convert me from boring to badass in bed in five minutes. I just wanted it to happen. To feel all those things that other women felt and have my guy driven to the edge of insanity when he was with me.

  It felt depressing as hell. “That’s because I’m never going to be that girl. I don’t think I’m capable of that. Maybe I’m missing a gene or something.”

  Christian scoffed. “You’re not defective. You just obviously haven’t had a partner w
ho knew what the fuck he was doing.”

  I opened my mouth but I wasn’t even sure what to say. So I closed it again and reached for my wine. My mouth felt hot. I didn’t exactly have a long list of lovers. Only a couple, so what did I know? Obviously nothing. “My stomach hurts,” I said. The hangover and the doughnuts and the wine were all catching up with me. “I should go home.”

  I hated this feeling. I felt lost and unsure of myself. I had never been someone who was lacking in confidence. I had for the most part sailed through life. I knew my strengths and my weaknesses and I had been well aware and appreciative of the fact that I had the privilege of money. Now all of a sudden I wasn’t even sure who I was.

  When I stood up quickly my head spun. I reached out to hold on to something but there was nothing but air.

  Christian stood up too and came up behind me, gripping my arms with his hands. “Whoa. You okay?”

  I nodded, but that made me dizzy again. “Just a little light-headed. I didn’t eat very well today.” He wasn’t helping my dizziness. I was very aware of how close he was to me, and he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. His hands were hot on my skin, his chest warm. His thighs brushed my butt. I tried to lean forward but the coffee table was in the way.

  “I would drive you home,” he said. “But I can’t leave Camp.”

  Right. His son. Sleeping in another room. The poor little baby with the awful mother who had abandoned him. That mean girl in the restroom at the bar who had ripped into my sister and made fun of me for throwing up. “I can just request an Uber.”

  I felt very drunk and scared to go home and face Bradley. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I blinked hard. A small groan of frustration escaped before I could prevent it.

  So much for me taking charge of my life and fixing a terrible situation. I was just being desperate.

  Christian turned me around and searched my expression. I tried not to look away, frantically attempting to channel Coco Chanel. She always said a woman should be two things: classy and fabulous. I normally strived to be both. Right now I was neither, and I hated that. I lifted my chin, threw back my shoulders. I wished I were wearing red lipstick.