Page 34 of How to Get Revenge on a Cheating Ex
I bite my tongue to keep from pushing for an answer again. Part of me knows that if she thinks I want this too much, she’ll take off running in the opposite direction.
Bailey can be stubborn like that.
And if she goes down this path and regrets it? I don’t want her blaming me.
Hell,Idon’t want to blamemyselfif Bailey gets hurt by this plan. This has to be her decision.
But damn if it’s not tough to wait her out.
I do, though. I sit there and I wait. In silence. And all the while, my dad’s family slowly gathers on the deck’s edge, hands shielding their eyes from the sun for a better look at us.
There’s no doubt they’re all wondering what we’re still doing sitting in the car on this hot summer day.
I give them all a little salute that makes Bailey sigh with impatience. “We look ridiculous.”
“Then tell me what you want to do,” I say. “How do you want to handle this?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Her voice goes up at the end and I glance over in alarm.
But she’s not crying. She’s nibbling on her lower lip and messing with the hem of her skirt so badly that it’s inching up higher and higher without her noticing.
Crap. I whip my head around to stare at my Aunt Ruth. Gossipy, annoying, completely unsexy Aunt Ruth.
“I haven’t figured out what I want to do.” Her voice is painfully small.
I grip the wheel again. Hard. “Mmhmm.”
She clearly gets that I don’t believe her and she snaps. “What?”
I turn to meet her stare. “I don’t believe you.”
She frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I know you.”
Her brows come down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shove my hair back. I’d turned off the car when I’d parked and the temperature in here is rising fast. “It means, you hate confrontation and you’ll avoid it at all costs.”
“I confrontyouall the time,” she says.
“No, you give me lectures and tell me what a screwup I am?—”
“Exactly.”
“Not the same.” I shift in my seat to face her. “You don’t shout or punch me in the face, like I know you want to. And my guess is, you’ve never so much as hinted to Grayson that your relationship might be anything less than perfect.”
“Itisperfect.” Her annoyed response is automatic, and she flinches a second after it slips out.
I could mock her for it—I mean, her so-calledperfectboyfriend is cheating on her, after all. But she doesn’t need the reminder.
“My point,” I continue with exaggerated patience, “is that you are a pro when it comes to sweeping issues under the rug and hiding your feelings?—”
“I don’t?—”
“But this isn’t a problem you can ignore,” I continue.
She looks like she still wants to argue but she stays quiet.
