Page 195 of Handsome Devil
I’d never found it so disturbing before.
In the short time that I’d been away, it felt like so much had changed. But clearly, nothing had changed here.
I went straight to my mother’s office, where she delivered a brief lecture on family values, again, wished me well with my marriage, and told me “Don’t fuck up like I did.”
Which was interesting. Because up until that moment, I’d never heard her blame anyone for fucking up her marriage other than my dad.
Then I walked into my office for the first time in three weeks. Felt like it had been three years. I met with Velma, then had a string of rapid-fire meetings. With Mr. Block, our head of security. With our in-house legal team. With our PR team.
I got updates, and I made sure that every one of them was doing what I expected of them.
Keeping that fucking sex tape out of rotation, as much as possible.
Looking into that woman from the sex tape—like why the hell was she in Vancouver, approaching my wife and making idle threats?
And making sure there was plenty of media fodder circulating about my romantic, whirlwind marriage to my old high school crush.
I told our public relations team today, face-to-face, all about it. I figured hearing it from my mouth might make it more real for them. More believable. Help them keep selling it to the rest of the world.
I told them how I’d fallen for Devi, the first time, back in school. We had classes together. We were both athletes; I played hockey, she played soccer. And when I crossed paths with her two days after my engagement to Tina ended… it was love at first sight.
Well, second sight.
I told them how seeing her again just brought it all back. And how we’d tied the knot so quickly to try to make up for lost time.
We were soulmates. Meant to be. Written in the stars.
All that stuff.
I was happy, my family was happy, and everything was as it should be.
Of course, I wasn’t actually happy.
My family was, at best, content. For the time being. My mother had even dismissed Corben, letting my handler fly back to London.
So, some of the pressure was off.
But I was tired. Stepping back into my old life, I felt a strange sense of weariness.
My pre-Devi life.
My post-Devi life; the one I ran to after high school to get away from everything I’d hated about my time living on the west coast—including her.
I never hated her.
I hated how she’d made me feel.
Maybe back then, I wasn’t ready for it.
I wondered if I was ready for it now.
As evening fell, I buried myself in work, in my office. I stayed late, until darkness fell outside, inky and black around my tower windows.
Then Rolf drove me home through the wet streets; it was colder in Toronto than it was in Vancouver. I wasn’t sure why I’d always thought of Vancouver as such a cold place.
Maybe it was the hatred that skewed my memories.
But I didn’t think of Vancouver the same way now. Maybe because Devi was there. One of the reasons I hated the place had now become one of the reasons I wanted to go back.
