Filthy Vows - Alessandra Torre Page 0,54
distract us from the conversation. So much for turning things around.
I clutched the empty glass and forced myself to walk to the sink and reach for the nozzle. “No, it wasn’t that.”
“But Easton told you, right?”
“Yeah.” I turned on the water and watched as it filled the glass.
“I just didn’t want things to be weird. Especially since he’d offered for me to stay here. But it is, isn’t it?”
I turned off the water. “No, it’s fine.”
“Elle.” My name was a rope, one that snagged my chin and pulled it toward him. He rested his weight on the counter and met my eyes. “I’m fucked up right now. I’m in a really weird place, and you two are my best friends. I was drunk and I was horny and I fucked up. Please forgive me. I can’t—” he swallowed. “I don’t want to do anything that’s going to mess up things between you two, or with us.”
“It’s not…” I sighed, my heart breaking at the desperate way he looked at me. There was such fear in his eyes, so much vulnerability in each line of his body, despite his strong stance. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I wet my lips and continued. “I knew you were there. I saw you on the balcony and I told Easton that. Not right then, but afterward, like you did. I could have stopped him and I didn’t. So don’t feel guilty. It wasn’t just you. I was drunk too. We all were.” I took a long sip of the water, then set it down. “And I’ve been weird because I didn’t know how you felt about it, and I didn’t want you to think any differently of me. But—I’ll stop avoiding you.”
“I’d never think differently of you. Please tell me you know that.”
It was a genuinely nice sentiment, but I’d been on the judgment end of things too many times to believe it. “Look, I want to be there for you, and I haven’t. And I’m sorry I haven’t supported you through this. I mean, E…” I let out a strangled laugh. “E gives shit relationship advice. He once told Chelsea to send a thank you letter after a date.”
He laughed, and there was a well-needed break in the tension, a tilt of the axis back to normal. “Yeah, he does give shit advice.”
“Just do the opposite of whatever he suggests,” I grinned.
“Here, I’ll get you some ice.” He held out his hand and I passed him the glass.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about Becca.” He spoke over his shoulder as he pulled out an ice tray and twisted the plastic, breaking up the cubes. “Honestly, it’s been a financial and legal headache, but emotionally?” He shrugged. “Other than a massive hit to my ego, I’m okay. I’m almost relieved. For a year now, I’ve felt this wall between us, and I haven’t been able to figure out how to knock it down. It’s been kind of nice to have a break and just say fuck it.”
“Yeah, I guess. But it’s scary. I remember how much you loved her on your wedding day.”
He wiped his palm on his pants, then carefully picked out a few chunks of ice, dropping them into my glass. “The rough part is, a large part of me still does. You spend four years of your life with someone, and they have a piece of it. I didn’t stop loving her the day I found out. I just started hating her at the same time.”
I could understand that. But I also didn’t feel—wasn’t sure—that she still loved him. I couldn’t imagine someone falling in love with a new person if they were still in love with their husband, and couldn’t justify her treating Aaron the way she was if she loved him at all.
“So, anyway, I need you to find me a girl. Someone filthy in bed and uninterested in emotional attachment.” He extended the glass of water with a grin. “And apparently not a famous tennis star.”
“Ha.” I pulled out the stool that hid under the island and climbed onto it. “Easton told you about last night?”
After the tennis event, we’d had drinks with Nicole who was incredibly delightful, bless my jealousy’s soul, and incredibly gay. Like… super gay. As a prime example, my neck may contain a hickey from my husband’s new client’s Olympic-gold mouth—the result of a tequila shot taken a little too far. He was right. Nicole did reek of sexuality. Sexuality that really really liked me