Page 65 of Jingle Bell Jilt
I laugh and I realize that it sounds a bit maniacal. But I can’t help it. Is he really this stupid or does he just think that I am? “I owe you nothing.You didn’t show up for our wedding.”Each word is strongly enunciated. “And as if that isn’t bad enough on its own, you left no note, no text, nothing. That’s when you lost all rights to demand anything from me. Now leave me alone or I will see that a restraining order is issued before the plane wheels touch down.”
He tilts his head and grins. “Come on, Babe. You wouldn’t do that.”
I narrow my eyes and for a minute he reminds me of Prince Humperdink at the end ofPrincess Bridewhen Wesley is holding him at sword point. Nathan gives a little hop to the side, out of the range of my hands. It’s the best decision he’s made all night.
“Well, when this,” he waves his finger between Evan and me, “falls apart, don’t come crying back to me because I won’t be available.”
“You have my word,” I smirk at him. “Now please leave us alone.”
He glares at Evan. “Dude, this is a low thing to do.”
Evan shrugs. “You abandoned her first. It’s not my fault I figured out what a mistake you made before you did. You had your chance.”
“So did you.” I look at Evan, the tears falling now. “I don’t really even know you. This wasn’t real. It’s just a big mistake. You’re just a rebound.”
He shakes his head. “No, it isn’t. It’s real for me.”
I scoff and wave my finger between the two of us. “This is what the book world calls Instalove. It doesn’t happen in real life, which is why readers hate it.” I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have allowed myself to think it was anything more, but I just wanted….” I look away. “Bye, Evan.”
“Shay, wait. Let me explain.”
I shake my head. I just can’t do it. Maybe in a week or a month, I can sit down and evaluate how and exactly where my life took such a hard left turn and ended up in the crapper.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
EVAN
Ishoulder my backpack and step out of the plane. A blast of cold, New Hampshire air blows through the crack between the airplane and the jetway. It’s fitting for my mood. I feel pretty cold and frosty inside and out.
I pull my carry-on behind me, and it bumps over the shoe of a person standing nearby. Obviously too nearby. “Ouch,” they mutter.
“Sorry,” I throw over my shoulder without even stopping to see if they’re okay. I’m being a complete jerk, but I can’t help it. I have this constant knot in my stomach, and I’m not sleeping well. The repairs on my townhouse are taking way longer than I thought, which means Orlando is out for the near future. Although I’m not really keen on being there anyway. Everywhere I look in my townhouses, I’m just reminded of Shay.
“Shay,” I mutter on a sigh. I haven’t heard from her since she left Universal early on New Year’s Day. I’ve tried to text her, but she has totally ghosted me. Not that I completely blame her. But I thought she knew me well enough to know that I wasn’t trying to hurt her. Maybe that’s the real problem. We really don’t know each other very well. But I thought— I shake my head.
I haven’t heard from Nathan either, but that one I’m not losing any sleep over. I’m not sure how I missed what a tool he is. I mean, I knew he was a player in college, but I guess I just thought he’d grow out of it. The rest of us did, why didn’t he?
I think more than anything I’m just disappointed in myself that I believed anything he said about Shay. Although, if he hadn’t said what he said, then I wouldn’t have said what I said, and the two of them would probably be married right now.
That thought makes me break out in a cold sweat and doesn’t make me feel any better. I still feel like garbage.
“Hey, Evan. Over here.” I hear Keaton call me from down the line of cars. I told my Dad I could just catch an Uber home, but he insisted on coming to pick me up. Or send someone to pick me up.
“Hey, man.” I give Keaton and then Lowell a bro hug. “How was Christmas?”
“Good,” Lowell shrugs.
“Not as good as yours,” Keaton waggles his eyebrows. “So, where’s your hot girlfriend? You didn’t bring her home?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that she isn’t my girlfriend?” I shove my bags into the trunk of Keaton’s 1990 Lexus. Shay isn’t my girlfriend. Not that I wouldn’t take her as one in the blink of an eye. “She went home. Her vacation was over.” Even as I say the words out loud, something pierces my heart, and I have a hard time taking a full breath.
“Are you going to fly out to see her soon?” Keaton nudges me before he walks around to the driver’s seat. He’s not nearly as sly—or subtle or whatever the vibe he’s going for—as he thinks he is.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be back at school?” I ask as I duck into the front seat.
He shakes his head. “No, next semester doesn’t start until Monday.” He rubs his hands together and grins. “That gives us the whole weekend together.”
I stifle my groan. That’s the last thing I need.
