Page 41 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Did I mention I had a cheating ex?” I offer as Wes sucks on his teeth. His golden eyes now burn with the stare he launches at Chad like a weapon.

When I watch my ex lean in to whisper in a girl’s ear, I note his arm wrapped around her waist—the way he pulls her closer.

Where I expect pain—like a bruise—I experience none. When I’d found out about Chad’s cheating, originally, it had sent me into a spiral. I was sick with the hurt of it. But now, watching him press a kiss to the woman’s temple elicits no feelings in me whatsoever.

It seems to be a good sign, given my previous panic.

Wes shifts where he stands. “Might have mentioned the ex before,” he says, drawing my attention back his way.

“Well,” I start, gesturing to the man across the grass. “That would be him.”

Wes chugs the last of his beer, tossing it into the closest trash can before looking back at the fast-approaching man I did not want to see. “Why don’t I ask him to leave?” Wes starts, moving a step forward.

I halt him with a hand to his bicep.

I don’t want to ruin this for Lennon. Besides, Chadisin the business of investing. He could have important networking connections to help the bed and breakfast flourish. I don’t know how it all works, but I know that I am the real problem here.

It was just shocking, seeing him show up like that.

“No, no,” I say, forcing cheer into my tone. “Chad has so many business connections that Lennon could actually benefit from his networking abilities. I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m not sure Lennon wouldwantto benefit from that guy.” His gaze slides over my face as if he’s working to parse apart what I’m feeling—what I’m truly thinking beneath the surface.

I take a step back, waving him off. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I have a giant sunflower tattoo on my ribcage covering his name. He doesn’t exist to me anymore, and it’s no big deal.”

“A sunflower?” Wes says with that coveted smile creeping back onto his lips.

I shrug, thankful he skirted right past thetattoo of my ex’s namething. “I wanted something bright and sunny.”

At that, his eyes shine with mirth. “Just like you,” he says, and I realize it’s the second time he’s pointed this part of my personality out. The noticing sends warmth right back into my blood.

“Tell you what,” he starts, shifting as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let’s just say you’re with me.”

My stomach drops. “Pardon?” I ask, brows furrowing.

“If this guy is as awful as you said, it might help to have a buffer of some sort.” Wes winces at his own words. “What if we just pretend we are together. Then you don’t have to worry about whatever made you dread seeing that guy so much, and we can—”

“Cassidy?”

I spin, Chad’s voice sliding down my spine like nails on a chalkboard.

“Chandler!” I say, injecting some of thebrightandsunnyWes seems to see in me. Though this kind seems undoubtedly forced. Just call me a vitamin D lamp. “What a surprise to see you here!”

Chad’s eyes flick to Wes, and the girl at his arm leans in closer to him. Her chocolate-brown hair looks a touch too styled for this event, and though she’s wearing jeans and a flowy, cream blouse, I can’t help but notice the way her satin heels sink into the dirt.

She’s probably not used to being dragged out to a bonfire and is more accustomed to yachts and social dinners at the club Chad owns. They might, very well, be perfect for each other. I can’t believe there was ever a time I thought this man and I would have been a good fit.

“Well,” Chad says, puffing his chest out. “I saw a new business opening in town, and you know how I am, Cassidy. Got to get a foot in the door wherever it may benefit you.”

Unfortunately, Idoknow how he is. He’s practically a vampire with how much he feeds off of others—always looking out for himself and his endeavors. When we’d dated, every outing felt like an opportunity to show me off to the world. His gaze somehow always flicked from corner to corner in the rooms we’d stand—searching for whoever would value the look of a pretty girl on his arm and consider Chandler a good investment.

It was almost dehumanizing to be considered so little in the bigger picture of his life.

I’m considered more at Ellis’s favorite coffee shop when they ask me for my name and write it spelled incorrectly on the cup.

“Right,” I say, hating myself for not realizing how snake-like the man was—still is.

The girl releases him, giving one glimmering look in his direction before offering me her hand. “Jera,” she says. “And you are?”