Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I don’t move. I can’t believe he thinks I’d do that.
Fuck him.
I’m not that kind of a scorned lover. Fuck him for thinking I am.
But I can take a page from my own playbook. The one I used the night I met him. I return to the ice age, cool as tundra as I say, “That’s big of you to say that. Really it is,” I say, drily. “But you know what I’d like more?”
“What would you like?” he asks, worry stitched in his voice, like he thinks I might drop him.
Good. Let him fucking squirm.
I take my time, wrestling back some of the control that’s slipped through my fingers. “I’d like another deal. See, Maddox, everything can change on a dime when you least expect it. I’ve got my family to look out for. And myself. So maybe you can get working on that water bottle endorsement. Or a podcast network. Or something. But don’t worry if you don’t hear from me tonight, it’s because I’m hitting the clubs with Gunnar, and I will definitely have my phone off.”
Maddox is dead silent for several seconds. New York flashes by in that time—honking horns, chattering pedestrians, the sound of a jackhammer from a construction site somewhere.
Then, with a defeated sigh, he says, “Have fun, Zane. I’ll see you at Ava’s Bistro tomorrow night with Priyam. I’ll text you the details.”
That damn dinner.
Guess I will need a poker-face strategy after all.
24
BEWARE OF SCALLOPS
Zane
Be outgoing. Be friendly. Be the guy the brand bought.
I repeat my at-bat strategy thirty-six hours later as I head into Ava’s Bistro off Park Avenue.
I walk to the hostess stand and flash my friendliest smile to a brunette wearing a painted-on black dress. “I’m here to join the LeGrande party,” I say, like it doesn’t ache to speak his name aloud.
“Right this way. Two of them are already here,” she says coolly.
Clenching my jaw, I fight off the emotions—the latent thrill of seeing Maddox mixed with the cutting pain of his rejection. The hostess guides me through the hip eatery, weaving past tables of well-dressed New Yorkers dining on tapas and sipping designer cocktails.
When we near a table in the corner, I spot the back of a man’s head, the dark, wavy hair I adored roping my fingers through, the strong shoulders I loved to grasp hard.
You can do this.
Like when I’m at the plate, I assess the field. Vance is next to Maddox, but they aren’t chatting. They look…uncomfortable.
Boo-fucking-hoo.
Then Vance’s familiar voice calls out when he sees me. “Buddy! How the hell are you?” He pops up, wrapping me in one of his big hugs.
“I am excellent,” I say, faking it like a badass Oscar winner.
In three seconds, I’ll have to make believe for the man I fell for.
Maddox stands, turns to me, half smiles.
Ah, shit. Is he gonna come in for a hug? I’m not that strong. I’m not that good of an actor, especially with this elegant, intelligent, giving man…
Nope, that’s not who he is.
He’s the man who dumped me.
Maddox sticks out a hand, preemptively cutting off a hug.
Well, screw that too.
With a practiced smile I reserve for jackass reporters, I shake his hand. “Good to see you, Maddox,” I say.
I’ve only rehearsed those words ten thousand times since he took off yesterday morning. I practiced them last night when I should have been sharing the evening with him. When I would have asked him if we could find a way to do this relationship thing after New York. But he cut me off at the knees before I could even get the words out.
Now look at him. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt and no tie. Does he think I can’t handle it if he wears a tie?
Well, guess what, Super Agent?
I can. I’m a pro athlete. I’ve got balls of steel.
“Good to see you too,” Maddox says, letting go of my hand first. “Priyam should be here any minute. Can I get you a drink?”
I meet his dark gaze. “I’d love a daquiri,” I say, like a smug asshole.
Let him feel a little pain.
He blinks, then schools his expression in seconds. Does he feel nothing? Was it all in my mind?
When he heads to the bar, I sit with Vance. We catch up on baseball, recapping the three-game Comets series that ended with a day game we won this afternoon.
Soon, Maddox returns with the cocktail, then hands it to me. “Here you go,” he says, in a strained voice.
I take a big, thirsty gulp, and my goddamn brain freezes again. But I don’t let on. I ignore the pain. “Mmm. Makes me feel like I’m on a tropical island,” I say, since apparently I like being a dick tonight.
Maddox looks away. Vance chuckles.
A few seconds later, Priyam arrives. I’m more relieved than I expected to be to see him. I don’t have to fake a damn thing around the older gentleman. He is kind. He is warm, and I mean every word from the bottom of my heart when I stand first, shake his hand, and say, “So good to see you again. How was Chandra as the wizard? Did she break a leg?”