Page 83 of The Dis-Graced
Amanda shifts her eyes away, drawing her lips thin.
I hate that she’s judging me. She hasn’t said anything rude. Quite the contrary. If anything, she’s been over-accommodating. Perfectly sweet, attentive, warm. But I feel it—her judgment.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I confess. “I just don’t know how.”
Amanda turns her gaze towards me, her face inviting. “I’d love to hear what you have to say. And anything you want to tell me will stay between us.”
“I know you’re not going to believe me, but that whole Brigger Steele thing…”
The words catch in my throat. I desperately want to tell her about what happened, how I was never intending to sleep with a man my father’s age, that it was supposed to be my fiancé in that hotel room, but the words just won’t come out.
After a minute, Amanda says, “It’s okay. I get it. I don’t judge you. The world is already unfair to women, it would be wrong to—”
“No—you don’t get it. I never slept with Brigger—I was set up.”
Amanda’s brows draw inward, and she bites the side of her lip as though deep in thought. “What do you mean?”
“Frank and I were going to stay the weekend at the venue we were going to be married at. He got there before me, or said he did, anyway. He texted me, telling me he wanted me naked in bed waiting for him. So I was naked in bed waiting for him.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then, the bathroom door opened, and Brigger stepped out, completely naked. He comes towards the bed, then he sees me. It was the weirdest thing. He didn’t expect me to be there.”
“Grace, why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“Who the hell would have believed me? People love to gossip, and there’s nothing better than a good scandal, train wreck.”
“Well, what about Frank?”
“I never heard from him again. I went home, and he was gone. His stuff was gone. There was no note. He changed his phone number. I can’t find him anywhere. He was just gone.”
The rage behind Amanda’s eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen before from the very well put together woman.
“Listen up, Gracey. From this point forward, I am your lawyer—”
“I’m just trying—”
“Zip it, Anders! Now, let’s circle back. Who was the woman Brigger was supposed to be seeing?”
“The woman?”
“Yeah, the one that was supposed to be in that bed that was obviously not his wife.”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Well, we best find out. Brigger didn’t just buy that hotel room so he could jack off in private. He was meeting someone, and at a hotel that nice, it’s not just some rando. He had a mistress.”
“I mean, yeah, that makes sense.”
“Gracey, you’re like one of the best journalists there are, how have you not figured this out?”
“I-um-I-eh—”
“You’re traumatized. You can’t think about it. Am I right?”
It’s true. Over the last month, I’ve barely been able to pick up my phone. It’s been hell. Then there was the whole losing the love of my life without an explanation, or rather, the explanation is that he wasn’t the love of my life, just a fraud I’ve been with for several years.
“Something like that.”
