A cream-colored Armani dress, Prada heels and a pink Lady Dior bag later, I’m out the door. I shove a pair of huge sunglasses over my eyes in the bright sun as I make my way toward my car.
Then my step falters and sheer disgust surges as I notice… Aaron? What’s he doing, loitering in the lot?
He’s staring inside my Lexus through the driver’s-side window, one hand against the glass to reduce the glare. His distressed black denim jacket is too big for his frame, and the kindest thing I can say is that it sort of matches his shorts. He looks ridiculous, actually. He has a sun-faded Dallas Cowboys cap on backwards, probably going for some kind of cholo cool, but I know for a fact he’s never set foot in Texas. Red Jordan high-tops complete the look.
His sense of style has deteriorated significantly since we broke up. If I didn’t know him, I might think he was a lowlife trying to steal my car.
“What are you doing?” I demand. My voice is less than hospitable and vibrates with impatience. I have no time for him this morning. I need to get going.
He straightens immediately, then shoots me a smirk he undoubtedly thinks is sexy. “There you are! Just wanted to make sure you were home.”
“By looking inside my car?”
“Figured if it’s here, you’re here. I was just checking to see what you got in there.”
“Unlike you, I don’t have a hidden camera in my car, if that’s what you were wondering.”
He sticks his chest out, all big, proud man. “I’m not scared of you filming me.”
Well. There goes my sarcasm…flying right over his thick skull. “Aaron, move out of the way. I’ve got a client to see.”
“You can’t.” He scowls suddenly, like he just remembered something important. Hopefully, it’s that his doctor told him he’s going to suffer from a case of permanent erectile dysfunction if he gets married. “We gotta deal with something.”
“Well, make an appointment. Didn’t you hear me say I have a client meeting?”
“It can wait. It’s not like you’re curing cancer.”
His sneering hits me like a slap. Not like I’ve never heard before, but it still hurts to hear the disdain and disrespect for the career I’m so proud of. “Maybe if you had some help, you might actually dress like an adult.”
“What?” He glances down at himself. “I’m fine.” He shakes his head. “Look, this isn’t about my clothes. You can’t avoid me forever!”
“What are you talking about? Your texts?”
“You never sent me anything back!”
“I would have if you’d texted me again this morning. I just didn’t want to ruin my weekend by dealing with you.” I add an empty smile at the end in case he misses how I really feel…again.
He bristles. “A little bird told me that you didn’t talk to your family about us.”
“There is no us. Just blackmail,” I point out. “In case you forgot that detail.” But he’s right about me not talking to my family about the “engagement.” How the hell did he find out? My family wouldn’t have spoken to him. As a matter of fact, Hugo might’ve beaten him up if he’d tried.
Aaron waves his hand. “Yeah, whatever. The point is, you didn’t tell them. There was no engagement announcement, no celebration, and I’m tired of waiting, Jo!”
“How would you know? You weren’t even there!” I bluff, praying he’s just guessing here.
“I can be real generous with people when they have certain information. Bartenders, for example. They love to chat.”
Crap. Totally didn’t think about that. And it isn’t like the bartenders knew what kind of scumbag Aaron is.
“You aren’t even wearing my ring!” he thunders.
“I told you it’s too big. I didn’t want to lose it!” Even if it fit perfectly, I wouldn’t be wearing that thing. I’d rather put on eau de skunk.
He points at my left hand accusingly. “You were supposed to wear it on your middle finger!”
“It looks stupid that way. Nobody does that.”
“It’s not like your family’s going to notice,” he scoffs.