Chapter
TWO
Matt and the girl were naked blurs as they fumbled for clothes on the floor.
“You don’t need to stop on my account,” I snapped.
“Andrea,” he said to me, yanking on a leg of his jeans. “Shit, I’m sorry.” His dark hair was askew, no doubt from the skank who had been beneath him, her hands threaded through his hair.
The girl, a blonde, was younger than me, and pretty. A side effect from working at the club, I was sure, but I evaluated her clinically. Small tits, but a nice ass as she hustled into her shorts and bra. I said nothing as she put her shirt on inside-out. If I had to guess, she was from the new crop of residents at Stroger Hospital. Young and perky, and she’d probably fawned all over the older, distinguished chief resident who was my boyfriend.
When Matt took a step my direction, I shifted into a defensive stance. “Don’t even think about it.”
His hands went up in surrender. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It just . . . happened.”
“What just happened? All your clothes fell off and your dick jumped inside her?”
“Please, baby.” His voice was soaked in regret.
“Shut your asshole mouth.”
The girl stood beside him, cowering and studying the pattern on the rug beneath our coffee table.
Matt looked distraught. Pathetic. I felt nothing, except for the ache behind my eyes and the overwhelming desire to lie down. I was angry, sure, but most of it was at myself. I should have fucking known. How had I missed it? And I should have talked to him so he wouldn’t have felt the need to sneak around. Obviously our relationship had been over for a while.
“Look at me,” he asked softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Not that I owed him a goddamn thing, but I did as he asked and glared at him. He stood shirtless, one hand on his hip and the other raking through his hair.
“Jesus, I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered.
“Is this the first time?” I don’t know why I asked. He’d lied and told me he was working tonight. He hadn’t expected me home for hours—there were some nights at the blindfold club when I didn’t leave until three, and then took the train home, which made at least a dozen stops. Fucking her on the couch wasn’t an accident; this had been planned.
“It’s the first time,” he said.
I choked out a bitter laugh. “I’m offended you think I’m stupid enough to believe that.”
Matt didn’t deny he’d just lied to me, again. Maybe he thought lying further was pointless. I tore my gaze away from him and stared at the sliding patio door, only it was pitch black outside, so I could see our reflections in the glass.
“You two make a cute couple.” My voice was hollow, just like I felt inside. I was actually a little concerned at how not heartbroken I was. My statement was true, though. The two seconds I’d seen of them together seemed far more passionate than what Matt and I had.
“Jesus, Andrea—”
“Go back to the fucking, I don’t really care.” I tugged off my heels and dropped them with a loud thud, and made my way toward the bedroom.
Matt was behind me in a flash, his hand on my shoulder trying to get me to turn. “You don’t mean that.”
I shrugged off his hold. “I kinda do.”
“Stop acting like this,” he demanded, and that got my attention. “You have every right to be pissed.”
I whirled to face him, fire burning in between the pulsing throbs of my headache. “You don’t get to tell me what to do or how to feel.”
“Of course not.” His voice was harsh. “You said it yourself, you haven’t felt anything since Nevada.”
Holy shit. Matt looked almost as shocked as I felt about what he’d just said. What a fucking douche.
“What I meant was,” he backtracked, “after you told me what you’d been through, I knew you needed time. I’d hoped you’d talk to me and you’d stop being so . . .”