Page 6 of Ambrosia Kisses
It doesn't make me feel any better. God, I'm such an idiot. I actually convinced myself that he felt the same way about me!Clearly, he doesn't. This whole thing was just about getting laid to him.
I gave him my heart, and I was just a fucking wedding hookup to him.
My heart cracks in half, all my plans and hopes for a future with him shattering to dust at my feet.
I stumble through the door into my cabin, sobbing so hard I can't breathe. The urge to flee beats at me like a war drum as I race into the bedroom, throwing my stuff into my suitcase with shaking hands.
It takes fifteen minutes to erase every sign of me from the cabin. And five more to reach my car. By the time his stupid flight is in the air, I'm already on my way back to Stanford, determined to leave him in the past where he belongs and pretending it doesn't hurt like hell.
It's a lie. Nothing has ever hurt like this before.
Chapter One
Ridley
Three Years Later
"Jesus Christ," I grunt, narrowing my eyes at the familiar blue BMW parked across two spaces outside the winery. My gaze drifts from the sun glinting off the roof of the flashy car to the gorgeous brunette who ripped my fucking heart out and stomped on it three years ago.
Paisley Molina.
Once upon a time, I was ready to upend my entire fucking world for her. While I was canceling my flight and buying her a ring, she was leaving town with nothing but a note thanking me for sleeping with her.
And I was still stupid enough to follow her, determined to get answers.
I guess I got them when I found her all hugged up with another man, didn't I?
I caught the next flight to Italy with my heart in pieces. Stayed overseas for as long as I could, just to avoid any chance of running into her ever again.
It's been three years, and I still don't want to know a damn thing about her. So I keep telling myself. But I'd be lying if I said she wasn't on my mind far more often than she should be. She moved on from the best night of my life in hours. It's been years, and I still wake up with a hard cock and her name on my lips.
It pisses me the fuck off.
Paisley Molina isn't mine. She never was. She's just the poison I drank that convinced me I was enough for her. I'd be the biggest idiot on the planet if I drank from that well again.
But goddamn…she's still a beautiful little liar. Even more so than she was back then. Her curves are fuller, her dark her longer. From the side, her tits look bigger. My hands actually fucking ache with the desire to familiarize themselves with every tantalizing change.
And that pisses me off, too.
"What the fuck is she doing here?"
"My wife invited her for Lyra's birthday," Oliver says, wiping his grease-stained hands on a rag.
"And you didn't think to warn me?" I scowl at my little brother, mad as hell that no one bothered to tell me that she'd be here this weekend. Had I known, I wouldn't have agreed to attend theparty. I love my niece, don't get me wrong. But a man has his limits.
Oliver sighs, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. "Blame my wife for that, man. I wanted to give you a heads up. She threatened to make me sleep on the couch if I breathed a word of it."
"What the fuck?" I narrow my eyes on his beaming, pregnant pixie of a wife. What is Lucy up to now?
With her, it's always something.
She wants everyone as happy as she is and is not above meddling to make it happen. Most of the time, I don't mind. She leaves me out of it, and it's entertaining as hell to watch her work. Apparently, I'm no longer a spectator to her meddling, however. I'm a participant.
Fucking wonderful.
"Why?"
"Because she figured you'd skip out on the party if you knew Paisley was coming." Oliver's pause is full of reproach. "Just like you have every other celebration that she's attended since our wedding."
