Page 13 of My So-Called Perfect Life

Someone across the bar calls out, stealing his attention. He winks at me before leaving.

My eyes can’t help but follow him. In part, it’s his ass, which is ridiculous in those jeans. But the bigger part is that he’s actually a nice guy. After yesterday, I’d basically given up hope that such a thing exists. Maybe it’s the shots talking, but I like this guy.

Roxy comes back over, smiling at me. “Oh, good, you got your food.” She looks at the towel now sitting on my hand and asks, “What happened?”

“An asshole happened.”

She shakes her head and fills the shot glass in front of me. “Last one until you eat some of those.”

I cringe as I toss back another shot of vodka. Typically, I’m a mixed-drink kind of girl. Straight liquor isn’t my thing, but I guess my life is filled with firsts. I’ve never sat at a bar, icing my punching hand. I’ve never watched a homemade porn, starring my fiancé. I’ve never wondered what the hell I was going to do with my life now. I’ve always been ten steps ahead.

I stuff some nachos into my mouth and barely taste them. I wipe some guacamole off of my chin as I try to ignore the man who keeps glancing at me from less than three feet away. He’s doing something at the register, but he keeps shooting his eyes over to me every couple of minutes.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I feel him look at me. My eyes meet his, and we have this intense stare-off until I blink and remind myself to ignore him. The last thing I need at the moment is a man screwing me over further.

A few minutes later, Roxy returns. “What did this one do?”

“His assistant.”

“Ouch.” She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for my stupid fiancé,” I bark indignantly, picking apart the bar napkin in front of me as my emotional gears shift back to anger. “It isn’t your fault men are all imbeciles who think with their dicks and then tell you it didn’t mean anything. Who falls for thatit didn’t mean anythingshit anyway?”

A shadow darkens the bar just as I finish speaking. I look up from my tattered napkin to find blue eyes staring down at me, accompanied by a smirk. He has a commanding presence about him that has me unable to look away.

“It isn’t nice to stereotype us, you know?” His voice is like velvet and dark chocolate mixed together. It makes me shiver.

What the hell? Where is all this coming from?

“Yeah, well, when a majority of you figure out how to keep your dicks in your pants and learn the definition ofcommitment, we’ll stop judging you all the same.”

Roxy snorts.

“Someone hurt you good, huh?” Mr. Sexy asks.

Mr. Sexy?Holy crap, this vodka is kicking in fast.

“Well, if you call doing his assistant in the restroom two minutes before walking down the aisle to marry me, hurting me good, then yeah.”

“Double ouch,” Roxy whispers. “So, how did that happen?” She juts her chin out toward my hand.

It kind of feels good to get this off my chest with strangers rather than with Amelia and Mercy. These people don’t know me.

“He came over to try and get me to take him back,” I explain before grabbing another nacho. “Told me it didn’t mean anything, and he doesn’t want to be with her. I mean, is that supposed to work? Supposed to fix anything? He let her record herself giving him a blow job, and I saw it. Up close and personal. Bad enough he did it, but then I had to see the betrayal with my own eyes. But it didn’t mean anything, so it’s all okay. We can go back to normal and get married as if he didn’t commit the ultimate relationship sin.”

“And that’s when you punched him?” she asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “I punched himandkicked him in the balls after he told me that if we were over, then he was going on our honeymoon with Mandy. That’s his assistant.”

“Girl,” Roxy drawls. “You are my hero.”

I chuckle. The girl support coming from this woman who looks like a total badass herself feels good. “I also wished him good luck with getting it up after that kick to his dick.”

“He deserved that and more.”

Scott deserves every bit of Karma coming to him. If only that erased the pain of what he did.

“I can’t help but wonder why. Why me? What did I do to justify this? Why wasn’t I enough, you know? I thought I was worthy of more.”