Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I smile. “You think it’s a good idea?”
“It’s an amazing idea. When are they going to be here?”
“Like ten minutes maybe if they are on time?”
“Then we don’t have long. Come on.” Jameson stuffs another mini sandwich in his mouth, dusts off his hands, and takes mine, leading me straight toward Vaughn and Aubrey.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Just saying a friendly ‘hello’ to my business rival and his date.”
I try to resist, but there’s no point. Jameson practically drags me straight up to Vaughn, who turns and notices us at the last moment. The pair of men he’s talking to with Aubrey drift off as Vaughn’s eyes widen with recognition.
He looks at me, then my hand in Jameson’s, then back to me, to my chest, my crotch, and back to where our hands are joined. “Charli?” he breathes.
Looking him in the face for the first time like this is surreal. The last time he spoke to me directly, we were still dating. He was making sure I understood how annoyed he was that I had the nerve to ask to come to the convention. I think he was even accusing me of only dating him for his publishing connections.
I’m overcome by a sudden urge to punch him. I manage to hold it back, deciding standing at Jameson’s side and glaring hard is good enough.
“Charli?” Aubrey asks. “Do you two know each other?”
I’m not usually the type to blame the person a cheater cheats with. I mean, the person in the relationship is the one with the most responsibility, right? In this case, I think I will happily blame both of them, considering Aubrey at least has to know she didn’t write the book her name is being put on. “We dated,” I say.
“I think there might have actually been some overlap,” Jameson adds.
I nearly snort with sudden laughter. It’s such a simple, beautiful way to put things.
Aubrey’s smooth forehead creases, and she looks to Vaughn. “What does he mean?”
Vaughn still seems to be in a state of shock. Now that I’m looking more closely at him, I feel like I can see he’s not his usual self. There are circles under his eyes, and he usually takes his sleep so seriously. I feel the tiniest pang of guilt when I think maybe my little pranks could be playing a part, and then I mentally slap myself for feeling bad. He deserves every bit of what has come his way and what’s about to come.
“Um,” he says. He’s holding a glass of the orange and black drink in his hand. The colors have mixed together though, and the whipped cream on top is blurring to make it a brownish mess in his hand. “We dated. Yeah.”
“What does he mean there was an overlap?” Aubrey is facing him now with both hands on her small waist. She sounds pissed more than hurt. I will at least give her credit for being just as in the dark as I was. That much seems clear.
“Listen, baby. Charli has always been a little–”
Crazy. I can almost hear the word about to come out of his mouth, because it’s exactly the kind of thing he liked to do to me. He’d throw me under the bus if he ever had to save face. I was disposable, like an emotional shield he would use at will. I was too busy trying to be a good girlfriend to stop and wonder why I was putting up with his shit.
Only this time, the word doesn’t come out, because Jameson takes a very aggressive step forward, invading Vaughn’s space. The closeness emphasizes how much bigger and taller Jameson is than Vaughn.
“Careful,” is all Jameson says. He may have claimed not to be a “front puncher”, but when he’s looming over Vaughn, I’m suddenly very confident Jameson is more than capable of knocking Vaughn on his ass if he decides to.
Vaughn looks up at him, eyebrows twitching together for a moment in confusion. He seems surprised to be threatened, and like he’s trying to decide if he has the balls to stand up to the confrontation. After a moment of hesitation, he raises the two fingers holding his glass and his other palm, stepping back a half foot. “Who can keep all the dates straight,” Vaughn says, laughing a little.
“Does she know?” I ask. I didn’t plan to ask or confront him. I still haven’t so much as texted, called, or even talked to him about what he did. Well, I did send him the shortest breakup text in the history of breakup texts before blocking his number, but I don’t count that. I just couldn’t bring myself to ask him why he would steal my book. What could he have said that would make me feel any better about what he did?