Page 61 of Bad Boy Crush
Lou handed him a glass of water as she sipped from her own. “Maybe dating isn’t for us.”
Her tone was light, but the suggestion rubbed him the wrong way. “Guess we’ll stick to fucking then.”
“Whoa, cowboy, what’s chapping your ass?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” Frustrated with himself, he set his glass down and pinched the bridge of his nose.
She leaned on her folded arms on the breakfast bar. “Is something wrong?”
One “something.” The reminder that he was the dumb guy in a group of academics. “Just tired.”
“Did you notice the way Xavier flirted with May?” she continued, forgiving and forgetting more easily than he deserved. “They both have big brains and hot bodies. They have so much in common. If any two people should be together, it’s them.”
And not us, her comment seemed to imply.
“Not everyone can have an MBA.” He chugged his water after all.
“College isn’t for everyone.” Her tone was gentle, which, in his current state he read as patronizing.
“It was for you. You graduated at the top of your class, Lou.”
“So?”
“So, what are you doing”—with a guy like me?—“wasting your time updating a city website when you could be a billionaire’s financial planner?”
Her head jerked on her neck. “Finance was my career choice when I thought I wanted to have a career. Writing about my experiences is my passion. Like chain saw artistry is for you.”
He huffed, glanced down at his calloused hands. At the Band-Aid looping his left middle finger. At the healing scar where he’d extracted mother of a splinter earlier this week.
“I do what I do because it’s all I can do, Lourdes.”
“Making custom furniture, sculptures on commission is not simpleton work, Anthony. I couldn’t do it.”
“No, but you have a wiz of a mathematical mind, and you can write. You sure you’re not better suited for…something more?”
Like a man who worked in a position that required quarterly reports.
“I’m not going to defend what I do for a living to you like I did to Liam for years. Dropping out of my high-paying career to travel and write wasn’t exactly something Liam supported.”
“He traveled with you.” He didn’t know Liam had ridden her about her career change. He’d assumed her husband at the time had supported that move.
“Yes, he traveled with me. He golfed, he met with clients. He joked about how it was ‘my thing’ and he didn’t see the point in it.” Her voice shook with anger. At first, Ant worried he’d made her cry, but she recovered quickly. “We were together but separate. Sitting at the same table at a restaurant doesn’t mean you’re on the same side.”
He studied the gap between them from the opposite side of her breakfast bar. She had a point.
“Do you really want to talk about Liam instead of what crawled up your ass and died tonight?”
Yes, frankly. Which was probably why he chose to double down on this argument rather than let it go. Anything was better than discussing why he’d never gone to college—because of the dyslexia that slowed his brain to the pace of sludge. Because of the feeling of worthlessness he’d contended with as a kid. He thought he’d gotten over that, but it’d apparently caught up with him tonight.
Why the fuck did it bother him now?
Because she deserves better.
Lou was from an affluent family. Her college had been paid for. Her ex was from that same world—the money world. Ant had what he had because he’d scraped and saved and hustled hard. He’d stumbled upon a lucky break—doing what he loved happened to pay very well. How could he expect her to be happy with someone like him? Someone who worked with his hands instead of his brains. Someone who brought home less than Liam likely paid her in alimony.
“I should go.” He turned and started for her front door.
“You’re leaving?”