My mother once went two weeks without even looking my father’s way. He bought her a vacation home—an oceanfront estate in South Hampton—after that. She forgave him quicker than a stack of cards falling over from a breeze. Now I understand it.
An opportunity to see what I can get out of him. Too bad there’s nothing that fucker could give me that would make me forgive his cheating ass.
I silence my phone before placing it back in my pocket and have that feeling creeping up my spine again. Like someone is watching me.
Looking up, I find a set of emerald eyes. Ryat is leaning up against the far wall. A girl with short, bleach blonde hair stands in front of him, and she’s speaking to him, but he’s looking at me. He doesn’t seem to care that I caught him staring.
Then like he never even saw me standing here, he looks down at the girl who continues their conversation. He nods a few times, and then his lips start moving, but I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
A guy bumps my shoulder, pushing me to the side, not even bothering to say he’s sorry. I spin around, looking at all the faces that fill the hall. My breathing picks up, thinking about the weekend at the house of Lords. It could literally be anybody. I didn’t think about it that night, but now that I’m sober, it’s got me wondering. What if it was Matt? I asked him, and he said no, but that doesn’t mean he was telling the truth. Fuck, he’s already been lying to me. What’s one more? I try to remember what his voice sounded like, but I can’t. I do remember him saying that Matt was over me. He had been watching me. But maybe that was his way of telling me he was done with me. He didn’t like that I caught him and left him. He wanted that power.
Or I’m overthinking it, and it’s someone else. It could have been someone who doesn’t even go to Barrington. It’s a college town tucked back in the mountains of Pennsylvania, but that doesn’t mean people don’t vacation here. Some cabins sit in these mountains that cost millions, and we’re only an hour from a large city. People come out here all the time to get away for the weekend. But why the cloaks and masks? That part doesn’t make sense. Were the Lords dressed that way, or was it something else?
The reasonable answer has to be Matt. He knew I was there. He knew I was mad at him, and that was his way to get even. He fucks someone and then makes me think I fucked someone else. No hard feelings. It’s a trick he played on me.
“Hey?”
I turn around to see Matt standing in front of me as if I had summoned him. “Hey?” I laugh maniacally. I’m pretty sure I’m having a fucking mental breakdown, and the first thing he decides to say to me after I find him cheating is hey?
“We need to talk.” His eyes narrow on me with accusation.
Talk? What is there to say? I think about what my mother said to me, and I decide to use this chance as an opportunity. Just not the kind she meant. “I think we said enough at the party.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you …” He pauses and looks over my shoulder, squaring his. His eyes come back to mine. “Ashley got sick, and we had to leave before I could find you again.”
“Wait?” I hold up my hand. “So, we didn’t see each other again?” I’m not even surprised he left with her.
He frowns. “No.”
So, it wasn’t him I spread my legs for. For some reason, that makes me feel better. I’d rather it be a complete stranger, anyone but him.
“Why?” he asks.
“No reason.” I blow him off, going to step away, but he grabs my upper arm and yanks me to a stop.
“What the fuck did that mean, Blakely?” he growls, getting in my face.
I lick my lips and give him a sweet smile. Fuck you, Matt. “I just realized you weren’t the guy I fucked that night.” Okay, so I’m not a hundred percent sure I had sex, but I want him to think I did. He not only cheated, but he also lied to me because he told me he was going back to Texas for the weekend. He thought he’d be safe at the house of Lords, knowing I wouldn’t be there. Fuck, what if I hadn’t gone? How long would he have kept this from me? Would we still be pretending we’re a couple?
“What?” he shouts, tightening his hand on my upper arm. “You what?”