Page 10 of Bargain with the Bachelor
I shook my head tightly, trying with all my strength to keep the tremor currently vibrating in my stomach from reaching my fingers. As stiff as I felt, inside and out, I doubted I’d be able to bend my knees enough to utilize a chair.
“No. Just say it.”
Harry inhaled then let out a loud breath. “Fine. I’m in love with Laurelynn. Now you know.”
He huffed a laugh. Actuallysmiled. “It’s kind of a relief to say it out loud.”
My teeth ground together to suppress a scream. “How long?”
“Well, it’s hard to say. My feelings for you have been dwindling for some time…”
“No! How long have you been seeing that… that…girl?”
“She’s not a girl—she’s legal. Laurelynn and I have been together for, what is it? Three weeks now.”
“So basically you hooked up right after my dad’s stroke.” The bitterness leached from my soul into my voice. “Why? Why would youcheat? Why didn’t you just… break up with me? Why go behind my back?”
His expression was infuriatingly sympathetic. “I wanted to tell you, but your father had just suffered a stroke. I didn’t think it would be a good time.”
“But youdidthink it would be a good time to come to a party hosted bymy familyand hook up with thatchildin an upstairs bedroom? Right under my nose.”
He shook his head, a condescending smile decorating his lips. “She’s not a child. She’s twenty. Listen, I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I’m sorry for that.”
“But not for cheating on me for the past month.”
“Three weeks,” he corrected.
If I hadn’t known the value of the antique lamps and statuary in this room, I would have lifted something heavy and hurled it at his head.
“Get out.”
“Babe…” He took a step toward me, his hands raised in front of him in a calming manner. “You had to have known it wasn’t working. When was the last time we even kissed?”
“I’m sorry if I haven’t been attentive to your needs,babe.As you said, my father just had amassive stroke.”
“He didn’t ‘just’ have it—it’s been a month. You’ve got to move past it—get on with your life.”
Now I did move toward the nearby dresser, lifting a solid cut-glass clock and testing its weight in my hands. My voice was quiet but deadly serious.
“Get. Out.”
Harry eyed the clock. His gaze moved up to take in my expression.
Whatever he saw there must have convinced him the conversation was over. He left.
Sagging from a sudden release of tension, I set the clock down in its place on the dresser and turned to go back into the bathroom on shaky legs.
I shut the door behind me and climbed into the enormous white clawfoot tub, sliding my back against its smooth, cold surface until I was sitting.
And then I cried.
For my dad. For my relationship—which had apparently ended weeks ago.
I cried out of self-pity and out of shame and embarrassment over what had transpired with Hunter only moments before Harry had dropped his ugly truth-bomb and shattered my faith in men along with my illusions.
My only consolation in this whole twisted situation was that there was no way things could possibly get worse.
Chapter Three
