Page 60 of Beautiful Monster

“Girls like that don’t do casual sex without commitment. Not with guys like you. The Alex I knew would have bedded that pretty thing weeks ago. She’d grow attached, you’d break her heart, and she’d probably have burned down your pool house by now. No, there’s no way you fucked her. Judging by the way she looked at you…she’s still waiting for it.”

I swallow the painful lump in my throat. Turning back toward the window, I watch Sunny in the pool house and every good feeling I had this morning fades into cold, dark acceptance.

She’s right.

It’s only a matter of time before I break Sunny’s heart and lose her forever. Maybe that’s what I’m putting off. Maybe that’s why I can’t bear to touch her—because I know once I do, I’ll lose interest and break her heart.

“You should read fortunes,” I mutter. “Because you’re right. I haven’t. I forgot to feel proud of that. Treating women with dignity.”

A sardonic laugh escapes her lips as she steps closer. “It was never really your style.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at her with moisture in her eyes. If anyone would know how awful I was before, it’s her—among many, many others.

Neither of us speaks for a moment before she quickly blinks away any signs of emotion, placing her champagne flute on the counter. “I should go.”

I don’t bother arguing.

I don’t even bother saying goodbye. I have nothing left to say. She gathers her purse and her heels click against the floor as she leaves, slamming it as she goes. I’m standing there, jaw clenched and swallowing the anger in the back of my throat when I see Sunny approaching the glass door from outside.

We stare at each other through the pane, and while part of me wishes she’d stay on the other side, another part of me craves her.

She opens the door and closes the distance, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Alexander,” she whispers like an incantation.

I close my eyes, soaking in the sound. Without me even having to explain, she somehow knows I needed this.

“You shouldn’t stay here, Sunny.” My voice comes out tighter than I mean for it to. Her hand doesn’t even leave my back as she keeps rubbing circles between my shoulder blades.

“Breathe.”

Lea’s words just keep repeating in my head, and no matter how much I try to argue with what she said, I can’t. She’s right. How many girls did I fuck over the years, ignoring their emotions, leaving them high and dry, not giving half a shit for how they feel about it? How long until I do the same thing to Sunny?

There’s a tingling in my hands, and it’s snaking its way up my arms, pooling in my chest, making my heart pound and my breathing become shallower. Feeling frantic, I turn away from Sunny and walk to the kitchen where I plant my hands on the counter and try to control my breathing, but it’s futile. All I can manage are short, shallow inhales.

“Alexander, breathe.” Her hands are rubbing circles on my back again. Her head is resting against my shoulder.

These things come around from time to time, and they just love to make an appearance whenever I give up drinking and convince myself I’m going to turn my life around. It’s like nature’s way of saying, Nice try, asshole. Not today.

“I’m fine,” I mumble.

Her hands keep up the rhythmic motion on my back. It helps.

Now the heat is in my cheeks, across my chest, making my skin crawl and my ears pound. It’s like my heartbeat has traveled from my chest up to my throat and fills my head. I fucking hate it. Feeling helpless. Weak. Broken.

Once the panic subsides, I let my grip loosen on the countertop. Part of me wants to reach for the little orange bottle or whiskey, or both—which is what I usually use to make these things fuck off, but instead, I breathe in the reassurance and the woman standing next to me. Her fingers are in my hair, sending goosebumps down my spine and easing all the tension in my back with the way she’s moving her nails against my scalp.

“Talk to me,” she whispers without pulling away or stopping her movements.

“She was right, Sunny. I haven’t changed at all.”

“Why do you need to change?” she asks, leaning her cheek on my shoulder so her voice is in my ear.

“Because I couldn’t live like that forever.”

“So, change what you do, not who you are.”

“I have to. I have to change who I am,” I growl, keeping my eyes closed tight.