Page 29 of Billion Dollar Revenge

Can I trust her?

We order another round of drinks from the server before she speaks again. “I envy your ability to stand up for things you believe in.”

“I wish I had stood up for myself more when it happened to me.”

I see the acknowledgement in her eyes. Eyes that say,me too.

“Have you been with anyone else?” she asks, taking a sip of her drink.

I hesitate. Am I about to admit my dry spell? Fuck it. “No.”

“Why?” she probes, watching me over her drink.

I stay silent for a moment.

“I don’t trust easily. But it’s more than that…I don’t want to lead anyone on.”

“Maybe falling in love with someone would help rebuild your trust,” she suggests.

I pick up my drink and drain the glass. This conversation is so hard for me. I keep my eyes down, lost in thought. “Maybe.”

She takes another sip, and I order us another round.

I’m not ready to end the conversation. It feels good letting it all out.

“I fell out of love with my ex the moment I found out. The thought of touching her made me sick.”

“How do you do that?” she wonders out loud, swaying slightly.

I frown.

“How do you fall out of love?” I repeat, realizing she wants to do the same with Bobby. Who can blame her? She deserves a great guy who values her, who wants her happy and doesn’t hold her back.

“Hatred does that to you.” I chuckle bitterly as I rub the back of my neck. When was the last time I did that?

“I need to hate him more,” she mutters, her eyes glassy from all the alcohol she’s consumed.

It’s Bobby. I’m sure he hasn’t finished fucking up.

But I don’t want to see her get hurt again.

“These drinks are going down too easily,” she tells the server as he lowers another two on our table.

“You chose the most popular drink. Do you want more food?” the server asks.

Chelsea glances at me, as if to see what I want to do.

I’m not ready to go home. “Yes, bring more.”

Chelsea's face lights up with a big smile. “You’re not sick of me yet?”

“No,” I reply, picking up my drink and wondering why that is. I haven't spent this much time talking to a woman in years. Definitely not like this. Alcohol, food, good conversation—I’m surprised I’m enjoying it this much.

I haven't even felt the slightest urge to check my phone. Sitting here with Chelsea makes me forget I have a job.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she says.

“I’ll be right here,” I reassure her.

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