Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I drizzled dressing over my salad as I sorted through memories of my visits to other continents and places I’d recommend visiting. I opened my mouth and something else came out.
“How long were you and your ex together?”
He raised a brow, swirling wine in his glass methodically before replying, “Nine years.”
“Whoa. That’s a long-ass time.”
“Mmhmm. It is. More wine? This is fantastic. Conrad Winery, right? I toured their vineyard last April with my friend Lizzy and her husband. Beautiful property,” he said, reaching for the bottle in a rather obvious attempt to change the topic.
If I were anyone else, I’d be cool and let it go, but I was too fucking curious. And…a little jealous. What can I say? When I crushed, I crushed hard.
“Why’d you break up?”
“We didn’t want the same things anymore,” he replied, topping off my glass. “It happens.”
I stabbed a piece of lettuce, regarding him thoughtfully. “No, that’s not it. He did something.”
Lorenzo frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“Your ear twitched.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a tell. I took a master class from a Vegas card shark before I filmed The Long Journey. She said it’s all about recognizing tiny gestures.” I tapped my earlobes. “Like twitching ears.”
His WTF look was fierce as fuck. “It doesn’t matter what went down. It’s over and done.”
I sipped my wine, my gaze locked on him. His shoulders hunched defensively, and his knuckles were white where he gripped his spoon. I hated it. Not only had the bastard hurt him, but Lorenzo was obviously not over him.
“He cheated,” I guessed.
“Pierce…”
“Slimy fucker. Cheaters suck,” I grumbled. “I can’t tell you how often I get propositioned by married women…and men. It’s an automatic no-way for me. Sex doesn’t have to mean anything special. But if you go to the trouble to get a license that says you’re going to love and respect one person for the rest of your life—how do you reconcile that with extracurricular action? It’s fucked.”
“I agree with you. But Tony didn’t cheat.”
I gave him a pointed look. “Okay…”
He rolled his eyes and inhaled deeply. “He wanted to concentrate on his career, and he thought I was holding him back.”
“Why? Is Tony a fucking idiot?”
Lorenzo laughed. “Yes!”
“Obviously. What was he thinking?”
He sobered quickly and bit his bottom lip hard enough to pierce skin. “He was thinking I was a liability. And he was probably right.”
“How?”
“Tony’s a cop. We met when he pulled me over for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. He gave me a ticket, which I immediately contested in court. I was told if the officer didn’t show up, I’d be off the hook. But of course, he showed up and I lost. Somehow, we ended up in the elevator together afterward. He had the nerve to make small talk, I got sassy, and for whatever reason, he thought that was funny. He asked for my number.” He shook his head as if lost in a memory. “I don’t know why I gave it to him, but I did. The next eight years were so…good.”
Shit. Tony broke his heart. And if the hitch in his voice and misty look in his eyes were any indication, Lorenzo definitely wasn’t over him.
Fuck.
“I take it the ninth year wasn’t?”
“No.” He glanced away briefly. “He’d been stuck in the same department for years and wanted a change. Nothing happened for a while. I knew he was frustrated. One day he got a break with a new detective who was working a drug bust. They seemingly got along well. Tony talked about him all the time—Jose said this, Jose said that. He idolized this guy, and I think Jose was free with his opinions. It wore on him. His family didn’t like me, his boss didn’t like me. I was just too…gay.”
“Hang on. Obviously, Tony was gay too. His boss didn’t have a problem with that?”
Lorenzo shrugged. “Tony’s macho and muscular and…I’m a little too colorful.”
I was irate on his behalf. “So? You’re a nice guy.”
“Yeah, but I’m a pretty gay nice guy. And I’m not the kind of gay that hides well. I’ve never fit in the closet. I’ve been out since I was born and trust me, in my family and my culture, out is not easy. I was a black sheep everywhere—school, home, church. My opinions didn’t count, my dreams were unrealistic, and on top of it all…I was probably going to hell,” he finished with a humorless chuckle.
“I can relate to that,” I huffed. “I was too soft for my old man. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t just like my brother, who for the record, is a douchebag. But I wasn’t into sports, I watched too many movies, I didn’t speak up, I tied my shoes weird. Dude, I couldn’t win. It was always going to be that way. Didn’t matter what I did or said, I was his punching bag. My father was—excuse me, is just a big fucking dick.”