Page 57 of Less

If maybe he finally caught up to the fact that I’m not in his league—never really was.

Wondering if he just never really loved me at all.

Fuck.

I sniff, fighting back a tear.

Alessio is currently standing beside the dressing room door.

Arms crossed.

Back to us.

Pretending he doesn't hear Brielle.

Which is ridiculous.

The man can hear a mouse fart three counties away.

I make frantic shushing motions.

Brielle ignores me.

Naturally.

“Oh, come on. I need the dirty details, Amanda! Please? I haven’t had a date in six months. And he is literally gorgeous!”

Behind us, Less mutters, “Yep, I heard that. And, uh, thanks.”

Brielle squeaks.

I burst out laughing.

Then I grab one of the dresses and disappear behind the silk screen.

Not that it matters.

The man has seen me naked more times in the past forty-eight hours than my gynecologist.

A happy, satisfied sigh escapes me at the thought.

And honestly?

The man remains an excellent lover.

Always was, in my humble opinion.

I'm not exactly Mata Hari.

Before Less I'd had two serious boyfriends.

Compared to Alessio?

Well.

He might as well be a certified sex god.

But when Brielle used the word permanent something inside my chest tightened.