But Farrah wanted to know for sure.
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.” She finished the rest of her cranberry vodka. She was way past her drinks limit, but between Nightmare Ken and the way her insides heated around Blake, she needed extra fortification. “The one you dumped me for.”
The lingering laughter in the air faded. Blake paled. “You don’t want to talk about this.”
“I do.” Maybe it was the alcohol talking or some sort of latent emotional masochism, but Farrah wanted to know everything about this girl. Who she was, how she and Blake met, what their relationship was like. “It’s been five years. I’m over what happened between us. But I’m curious.”
Blake’s nostrils flared at the word “over.” He leaned back, away from the light, until shadows wrapped themselves around his face and the upper half of his torso. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Why’d you break up?”
The silence stretched for so long Farrah thought he didn’t hear her. Then he answered, “We couldn’t make it work.”
“Congratulations. You just gave the vaguest answer possible.”
Blake leaned forward again, his eyes hard, his jaw set. He looked almost angry, and she had no clue why. “Why are we talking about this, Farrah? Right here, right now?”
What remained of their carefree conversation hardened into something tense and dangerous. Farrah swallowed hard, her skin tingling from the change.
“Because it’s the elephant in the room, and an elephant isn’t part of my design plan.” Her lame attempt at a joke landed with a thud. She lifted her chin. “Look, we have a history together, but it’s just that: history. What happened between us happened a long time ago, and I don’t want it hanging over every meeting and conversation we have. So, let’s clear the air once and for all.”
“You think me telling you what happened with my ex will clear the air.” It wasn’t a question.
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. You did dump me for her. You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“Stop using that word,” Blake snapped.
“What word? Dumped?” Farrah’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
Except it wasn’t. “Dumped” was too colloquial, too common. It didn’t adequately describe the pain Farrah felt the night Blake told her he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend, and that he just wasn’t that into her anymore. Sorry, thank you, goodbye.
No, he hadn’t dumped her. He’d reached into her chest and dug out her heart, layer by layer, piece by piece, discarding and stomping all over them until Farrah had been sure she would die. She’d been raw, exposed, and bleeding, and he hadn’t even cared.
The memory tore at the scabs on her poor heart, so much so that Farrah had to down the rest of her drink in one gulp to ease the pain.
What the hell was she doing here?
Blake wasn’t a client. He wasn’t a friend. He was a liar and a cheater, and if she were smart, she’d leave right now and never look back. But her ass remained glued to her seat.
I’m an idiot.
“Technically.” Regret swirled
in Blake’s crystal eyes. “For the record, I know I acted like a jerk in Shanghai, and I am so, so sorry about what I did. But I’m not the same person I was back then.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” Farrah played with her glass. “When’d you guys break up?”
A tense silence. “Five years ago. A few months after we went home.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” The words exploded out of Farrah. “You broke up with the girl you were supposedly so in love with less than a year after you got back together?”
Blake was even more of a jerk than she’d realized.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I didn’t say I was in love with her.”
“Yes, you did. You said, quote, ‘I love her.’”