Series: The Laws of Opposite Attract Series by Vi Keeland
Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
He smiled. “Are you having twins? Because you already told me a soon-to-be two-time Academy Award-winning director wants me to read his script and that I’m going to be a dad. I don’t think anything else is going to top that.”
“Robert…” I closed my eyes. “I’m not sure you’re going to be a dad. I’m not certain you’re the baby’s father.”
The smile vanished from his face. “What?”
I explained the mathematics of the conception-date possibilities to him. “And the last time we were together was exactly seven-and-a-half weeks ago.”
“Okay…but are you saying you’ve been with someone else since then?”
I nodded. “A little less than six weeks ago.”
Robert’s face twisted with anger. “Are you serious right now? Who the hell did you fuck?”
I felt awful having to tell him this, especially after he’d seemed genuinely excited about the prospect of becoming a father, but I wasn’t going to let him talk to me that way.
“Who I’ve been with is none of your business.”
“Like hell it isn’t. I’d say it’s definitely my business when you can’t even tell me if you’re pregnant with my damn kid. What did you do, hop into bed with the first guy you met in New York? Was it at the airport, for Christ’s sake? Or maybe you joined the mile-high club and didn’t even make it to New York before banging someone else.”
Robert and I never spoke about who either of us slept with, not that there had been any men before Owen for me. But there certainly had been women for him over the years. Plenty. And we worked in a very small industry that thrived on gossip. I’d heard the rumors about his affairs.
“What did you do, hop into bed with the first extra you met on your last movie set? Who’s in your bed at night while you’re in Italy? Some twenty-one-year-old makeup artist from what I’ve heard…”
“This isn’t about me,” Robert snapped.
“That’s right. It’s not. It’s about us and who we are to each other. We were never in a committed relationship. You’ve proven that with your actions, time and time again.”
“So you’re saying this isn’t the first guy you fucked behind my back?”
My eyes widened. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“Good. Neither am I.”
I reached up to the edge of my laptop. “Goodbye, Robert. We can discuss this when you’re able to be civil.” Slamming it shut, I collapsed into the couch.
I wasn’t sure which had been worse, pissing off Robert or breaking Owen’s heart.
***
Later that morning, I spent a few hours walking around Central Park, trying to clear my head. It didn’t work. Not in the slightest. Which was probably why I didn’t even notice a woman waving at me from the window of the tattoo parlor until the door swung open.
“Hey, Devyn!” Billie yelled. “Hang on a second.”
I stopped and forced a smile. “Hey, Billie.”
“Do you think you can give me a hand for a minute?” She pointed to the shop window and a crooked poster hanging there. “I’ve been trying to get this sign straight for ten minutes. Every time I think it looks good, I come out to the street to double check, and the damn thing is lopsided. I’m beginning to think the window tilts when I’m not looking.”
“Sure. What can I do to help?”
“Just stand there at the curb and direct me if it needs to go up or down while I’m inside.”
“No problem.”
Billie went back into the tattoo parlor. She peeled the poster from the glass, stepped back, and hung it…completely lopsided. I smiled and thumbed up on the right side. She adjusted it until I gave her two thumbs up, then affixed it to the window before coming out to the street to join me again.
“Oh my God.” She chuckled. “That took two seconds, and it looks perfect. Thank you.”
“It’s definitely one of those things you need distance to see.”
She nodded. “What are you up to? My one o’clock just canceled, and I have a few hours before the kids come home, so I was going to go grab some lunch. Want to join me?”
I guess my face answered before I did. Billie smiled and held up two hands.
“No biggie if you’re busy. I forget not everyone has a schedule like I do, with random hours to kill during the day.”
I liked Billie, at least what little I knew about her, and what was I rushing back to the apartment for? To beat myself up over the mess I’d gotten into?
“Actually, I’d love to have lunch.”
Billie’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe a glass of wine, too. Let me just grab my purse.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were seated at a pub table in the bar area of a small Italian restaurant. The waiter came to take our drink order while handing us menus.
“I’ll have a glass of sauvignon blanc,” Billie said, then turned to me. “Unless you want to go wild and split a bottle. I’m not opposed to day drinking.”