Page 145 of The Path to Loving Him
My mouth falls open in shock . . . because the audacity of this man.
“You been sucking someone off on the side, baby? I always knew you were a whore, but I was okay with it because you’re my whore.”
Enough.
Ryland is not Nathan, but his words come eerily close to Nathan’s.
I stand from the desk.
“Fuck you, Ryland. If you really think that’s the kind of person I am, then fuck . . . you.”
And with that, I move past him and head straight for the teachers’ bathroom because if I stay in that room with him any longer, I might cry. And the last thing I want to do is cry in front of him.
I will not be belittled for wanting to spend time with another man.
Refuse. To. Be. Controlled.
Never again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
GABBY
“I’m sorry. That was not as fun as I thought it was going to be,” Christian says as he drives me back to my apartment.
He’s right, that was boring as shit, but I’m not about to tell him that.
“Stop, I thought it was fun.”
It was not.
The art was okay—no offense to his sister. The people were stuffy and pretentious. And the food that was passed around was not nearly enough to fill me up for a dinner date, which means when I get home, I’m going to be ripping open any and all food in the pantry, tilting my head back, and letting my chompers do the work.
And if I happen to add a drink . . . or two to that, then so be it. It’s a Friday, and I had a rough practice, trying to act like everything was normal even though I could feel Ryland’s gaze on me the entire time.
“Was it, though?” Christian asks as he turns down my road. “I think I saw you yawn five times.”
It was eight, but he missed three because I was discreet.
“I had a rough night last night,” I say even though that’s not the case. I slept like a baby because my legs are much better, and I’m no longer in pain while I sleep.
“You sure? You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
I so would.
I’m lying through my teeth.
“Either way, thank you for coming. My sister was glad to have another body in the building. She’s always worried that no one’s going to show up.”
“I can’t imagine how nerve-wracking that is. I thought it was a great show, though, and she sold a few paintings, right?”
“She did. She was really excited.”
“That’s great for her. It was fun to do something different. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thanks for saying yes,” he says as he pulls into the driveway. “Wait, is that . . . is that Ryland’s truck?”
