Page 71 of A Deal with the Devil

Smoothie? Check.

Stomach in knots? Also check.

He looks like garbage when he gets downstairs—either tired or hungover—albeit garbage I would eat with a spoon and lick thoroughly afterward.

His eyes flicker to me and rest there for half a beat before he forces a smile. I know it’s forced because his mouth curves upward on both sides, the way a normal person’s might, but his lips are tight. No dimple. No teeth.

“Advil?” I ask.

He gives a small shake of his head. “I don’t drink before surgery days. You know that.” There’s a sharpness to his tone that takes me aback. He hears it too. “Sorry. I couldn’t fall asleep last night.”

I slide him the schedule just as he reaches for his vitamins and our hands brush. I snatch mine back as if I’ve been burned.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before he grabs the smoothie. “I’ll drink this on the way,” he says.

Well done, Tali, I think. You’ve driven the man out of his own home. As if I needed further proof it should never have happened. People only recover from what Hayes and I did in movies. Otherwise, they’re exactly as we are now...slowly backing away from each other until a safe distance has been established, until they’re far enough apart to pretend it never was.

Our trip to San Francisco next weekend is promising to be the most awkward two days of my life.

* * *

He doesn’t text me all day, and I don’t text him. I watch for it, of course, like a lovesick teen, wanting even the smallest hint that we haven’t ruined everything. When he finally calls that afternoon, just as I’ve finished up his errands and am nearly back to his house, I want to weep with relief as I answer.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Busy serving your every whim as always,” I reply. Awkward silence falls in the space where he’d normally growl you’re not serving all of them or if every whim is on the table I have a new list.

And my heart stutters in its absence. “This is why we shouldn’t have slept together,” I tell him as I reach his street. “You’re holding in all your dirty jokes. You probably don’t even know what to say instead.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to revert to mild sexual harassment now. I’d kind of need to go straight to major, lawsuit-worthy harassment at this point.” I turn into Hayes’s driveway and slow when I see a bright yellow Ferrari sitting there.

I stop entirely when Matt climbs out.

“What the fuck?” I gasp.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Matt’s in your driveway,” I croak.

“Your ex?” he demands. “Stay in the car, Tali. He has no right to show up at your place of employment. I’m calling the police.”

“Don’t do that,” I reply, easing off the brake and pulling up to the front of the house. “It’s not like he’s dangerous. Let me get rid of him.”

I end the call and climb out, more irritated than nervous. It was bizarre, unexpected, to run into Matt at that party, but that he’s here on purpose is…a little creepy.

His mouth slips up into that lopsided grin I used to love. I don’t smile back. The part of me that once hoped he’d at least apologize is long gone. Now I just want to get rid of him. “What are you doing here?”

He leans back against the Ferrari, untroubled by the lack of welcome. “How else was I supposed to reach you? You’ve been blocking my calls. I was worried.”

“Worried?” I repeat, slamming the door shut behind me. “Your concern is coming a year too late. But I’ve never been better, so I guess you can be on your way.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, pretty brow furrowed. It’s almost comical how childish he now seems, in contrast to Hayes. “Look, I thought you were just working for this guy but fuck...you went away with him for the weekend? What the hell are you even thinking?”

I freeze. I didn’t tell a soul about this weekend. Not my family, not even Jonathan. “How do you know about that?”

“I’ve been having him followed,” he says without a trace of guilt. “I didn’t trust his intentions.”

I release the air I was holding in a single, dumbfounded laugh. “Holy shit, Matt. Are you serious right now? You cheated on me while I was burying my father.”