“Fine. I’ll leave tonight.” I lift my chin, refusing to let him see me down. This was what I wanted after all.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter Thirteen
Matt
Two weeks later
“YOU ANSWERED.” I rub my jaw, the rasp of stubble prickling across my palm. I haven’t shaved in days, and I’ve slept like shit.
“You keep calling my damn phone so yeah, I answered,” Dad says, sounding downright hostile. “Whatcha want, son?”
I want Bryn. I miss her. I hate what happened between us, how easily our tentative relationship was destroyed. Just by a slightly scandalous photo and a few choice words on a bunch of crappy gossip websites.
Hell, it was a very scandalous photo, leaving Bryn feeling beyond embarrassed. Vulnerable. I’m used to those gossipy sites saying a bunch of lies and spreading rumors. Bryn isn’t.
I’d been angry when I left New York. Now I’m just . . . miserable. She left. I’m not exactly sure to where, but I know she couldn’t handle being near me another minute longer. Not that I handled our last conversation in New York particularly well. The moment we discovered the article and photo, it all went to hell.
The most amazing night of my life with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, ruined. Just like that.
“I want to know why,” I finally say, then pause. Waiting for the answer I’m sure will never really come.
“Why what?” Oh, doesn’t he sound innocent.
“You know.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anger under control. “Why did you blab to the media? How much did they pay you? Was it worth it? Having those photos of my innocent assistant spread across the Internet?”
“She didn’t look so innocent in that picture.” Dad has the nerve to chuckle, the bastard.
I close my eyes, count to five. He’s pushing every one of my buttons, and I’m sure the jackass knows it. “I’m used to this sort of treatment. You can drag my name through the mud. I don’t care. But you don’t bring Bryn into this. She didn’t deserve that sort of public humiliation and you know it.”
“She humiliated me at your fancy winery party,” he says, his voice full of venom. “Believe what you want but you’ll see what I did was right for you in the long run. You don’t need that silly little tramp dragging you down.”
His casual confession makes me sick to my stomach. I knew he’d done it. Finally hearing him say it reaffirms I’m about to do the right thing. “Bryn James is the best f**king thing that’s ever happened to me and you ruined it. Ruined it with your blabbing to the media. I hope they paid you enough to make this all worth it.”
“Son, it was completely worth it because it got your name in the public eye again. I bet you’ve seen an uptick in business with the winery, am I right? You don’t want people forgetting you. You’re still important you know. A hero to many. Just like I am too,” Dad says smugly.
“You’re nobody’s hero, you f**king ass**le. I never want to see or talk to you again.” I’m seething. I literally see red, and I pull the phone away from my ear, ready to end the call when I hear his voice.
“Don’t cut me off too quick, Matt. I’m the last thing you’ve got in this world. And you know it.”
Not true. I have my friends. Archer and Gage. Ivy and Marina. And if I’m lucky enough, I’ll have Bryn back in my life.
“I don’t need you,” I murmur into the phone, then end the call.
I don’t need Vinnie DeLuca at all.
I definitely need my friends though. And more than anything, I need Bryn.
But first, I need to find her.
“IF I THOUGHT you were bad before, you’ve turned into a complete sullen little girl lately,” Archer says with a shake of his head as I stop at the table he’s sharing with Gage. “I don’t know if this forty-five-days idea was such a good one after all.”
“It wasn’t. Fuck the forty-five days.” The last thing I’m thinking of is the stupid bet. I settle heavily into a chair, barely looking at the scantily dressed waitress that appears at our table. “Double vodka, straight up. Make it Grey Goose,” I mutter.
“Anything else for you guys?” The waitress’s voice is bright and cheery. I chance a glance at her, taking in her short skirt, the belly-revealing top that clings to her enormous br**sts. I don’t bother looking at her face. From the way she’s dressed, clearly that’s not her intent anyway.
We’re at a local sports bar known for its spectacularly gorgeous waitstaff, Archer demanding via text I meet him and Gage there for drinks after work. So here I am, miserable and ready to drown my sorrows in booze.
They’re probably somehow trying to tempt me by having us come here. With the bet extension still on, I’m sure they’re looking for any way to get me to break it. The waitress is mega hot.
I could give two shits about her. All I want is Bryn.
“We’re good right now, thanks,” Archer says. His beer bottle is full, as is Gage’s. They’re both looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind, I can feel their eyes on me, but I stare at the table, tapping my fingers against the edge of the wood.
“Lack of sex has made you grumpy,” Gage starts and I lift my head to glare at him. He shuts up.
“And angry,” Archer adds. “What gives?”
Should I tell them? My mood has nothing to do with lack of sex and everything to do with having the best sex of my life with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. The very same woman who exited my life almost two weeks ago.
The woman I’m in love with but was such a wimp I couldn’t even tell her.
“You saw the article on the gossip site right?” I say, figuring I may as well start at the beginning. And come on, have they forgotten already? I know they’re wrapped up in their own thing since they’re both busy, occupied with work and the women they love.
Lucky bastards.
Plus I’ve avoided them for fear they’d want to talk about it. Call me out on everything. I’ve been alone with my misery and finally they forced me to crawl out of my hole.
“Yeah, and the picture. You insisted nothing happened between you two.” Archer sends me one of those skeptical, raised eyebrow looks he’s so good at. “Not sure if I believe you though. What with Bryn’s, uh, panties on display.”
“You shouldn’t believe me,” I say, offering the waitress a grim smile when she sets my drink in front of me, her cle**age practically in my face. Ignoring her boobs, I grab the glass, slam back the vodka with one long swallow and hand it back to her. “Another one, please.”