Page 49 of My Ex-Fiance's Best Men
“Phoebe—”
“You upgraded, right? That’s what you said in that photo,” she cuts him off. “Seriously, fuck off, Matthew. You had your chance. Like August said, we’re busy.”
“You’re busy.”
The hate in his eyes is raw. I wonder if Phoebe sees it or if she’s mistaking it for anger. This man never loved her. All he ever wanted was to possess her. To use her for her money. It’s clear now, and it makes my blood boil. He despises her because he knows he screwed any chance of ever getting her back.
“We’re busy taking care of what you never could,” August tells him.
Matthew’s nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he takes a couple of steps back. “Don’t do something you’re going to regret later, Phoebe.”
Theo holds up his phone, filming. I don’t disagree with his endeavor, particularly in this day and age where social media can make or break an entire business, let alone one man.
“The only thing I regret was not leaving you when you first started pressuring me about losing weight after all the times you said it was my curves that made me so appealing to you,” Phoebe responds.
“I was stupid, okay? I was shallow. I get that, now. But it’s not me anymore. We just need to talk about it. Face to face,” Matthew insists. “I need to apologize to you properly. And you need to admit your own fault in this, too.”
“And there it is,” August mutters.
“Butt out, August,” Matthew shoots back.
“All I ever did was try to please you, Matthew,” Phoebe says. “I gave you my body, my soul, my time, my energy, my heart. You had my undivided love and attention. I was ready to walk down the aisle and take you as my husband, in the eyes of God, our friends, our family. And then you decided to dump me in a fucking group chat. The whole world read it. You embarrassed me in a way that can never be erased or forgiven. Go be with your upgrade and leave me the hell alone.”
Matthew slowly shakes his head. “They got to you.”
“You still think this wasn’t my decision,” she chuckles dryly. “Matthew, you screwed up. Royally. Then you rubbed salt in the wound. You think I’m supposed to be pliable and forgiving? For what? For you to waltz back into my life and badger me into getting a personal trainer or a personal chef? Because that’s what you said the last time you brought it up. I get none of that when I’m with Dominic, August, and Theo.
“They accept me as I am, giving me peace and affection. Respect and adoration,” she adds. “If I want to drop a few pounds, I will. But either way, they still want me. They want to get to know me, to be with me. You, on the other hand, prefer a magazine cover type of girl, which I definitely am not. So for the love of God, quit making a fool of yourself and just walk away. Don’t make me shut this door in your face.”
Theo is still filming, a devilish grin dancing on his lips.
“This isn’t over,” Matthew says.
Phoebe slams the door shut. “Go to hell,” she mutters.
“Well done,” Theo replies, then leaves the phone on a nearby side table and takes her in his arms. August and I move in, the three of us wrapping around her, skin on skin and heart to heart. “You were spectacular, Phoebe.”
“It still hurts,” she shudders in our embrace.
“Healing takes time,” I whisper in her ear.
Moments pass in the sweetest silence while I imagine Matthew trudging down the steps and back to his car, hopefully driving as far away from us as possible. I regret the chances we gave him. The slips we overlooked. The aspects of his character we hoped would get better if he built himself a good relationship with Phoebe. That was a flop, from beginning to end.
I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone hurt her like that, ever again.
This woman thinks she isn’t lovable when she is love incarnate.
We spendthe rest of our day by the pool, swimming, sunbathing, and enjoying seafood from a nearby restaurant that delivers.
Thoughts hang over Phoebe as she rests in a chaise lounge by the water beneath the cover of a massive umbrella, a shadow of concern pulling her brows together.
“You’re worried about something,” I say, refilling her glass with iced tea.
“The video,” Phoebe says. “I don’t know if posting it online to antagonize him was a good idea.”
I look over to where August and Theo are engaged in another backstroke competition—par for the course when we’re in the Hamptons.
“Reactions have worked in our favor so far,” I remind her.
