Chasing After My-Ex

Chapter 2

What the hell did she just do? Matt Forrest thought as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly as he did so. The rooftop, where the party was taking place, buzzed with the hum of conversation and laughter but his eyes stayed fixed on the shredded pieces of the check Emily had torn in half before walking out.

He still couldn't believe it. The gall of her. The audacity to make a scene after he had tried to do something for her …something that she didn't even deserve. The effrontery to walk out like that as if he meant nothing to her.

How dare she?

Feeling his rage burn, he tilted his head back and downed the rest of his drink, the whiskey burning its way down his throat as he did so. He wished desperately that the whiskey was strong enough to scourge away the stain of humiliation that Emily had smeared into his memory.

“Earth to Matt.”

He jolted at the sound and glanced to his right as Marcus Ford, his best friend slid onto the lounge chair beside him with a predatory grin stretched across his face. “ Jeez. Calm down, dude, you are having a party and yet you look like someone just pissed in your scotch.”

“Not scotch. Whiskey,” Matt corrected dryly as he signaled for another glass from a passing waiter.

“Oh, my mistake. Whiskey. Let me guess—it’s because of her.” Marcus jerked his thumb toward the elevator doors that were long closed now.

Matt wanted to say how humiliated he was from what Emily did to him but knowing Marcus would use it to laugh at him, leaned back in his chair and said with a smirk. “That? Oh please. You should know me better than that. What happened earlier was good riddance to bad rubbish. She had it coming.”

Marcus barked a laugh loud enough to draw the attention of the other guys that were gathered around. “That’s the Matt I know. Cold as the Chicago wind.”

Matt’s other friends surrounded him just then, each one a carbon copy of the next—expensive suits, perfectly coiffed hair and a smugness that seemed to come standard with their tax brackets.

“What’s this about?” one of them asked as he settled into the seat across from Matt.

“Emily,” Marcus announced as he tossed his drink back. “Our boy here is talking about how he just gave her the boot and not feeling a twinge of guilt about it.”

Matt snorted at that. “Guilt? Oh please. Emily knew this was coming. She’s been living in my world on borrowed time.”

“Yeah,” Marcus drawled, “but did she know you’d parade Lila Carter in front of her and then toss her a check like she was a server you stiffed on tips?”

The group erupted in laughter as a response.

“Come on,” Matt said, grinning now, “ Whether she knew or not, she’ll get over it. Emily always does. She is coming back.”

One of the guys around Matt leaned forward with gleaming eyes. “You really think she’s coming back after what you did?”

Matt shrugged nonchalantly. “She’s stubborn but she is predictable. I am like her oxygen and she’s been running back to me for six years. Why would this time be any different?”

“Guys, who wanna bet on it?” Marcus’s grin widened as he proposed, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a game.

The others perked up at the suggestion immediately and their responses showed that they were in.

“She’ll come crawling back,” Marcus declared as he slapped his hand on the table. “A woman like that? Three days, tops.”

Matt raised a brow at his best friend. Marcus had always been crazy, he thought. “You really think three days?”

“Absolutely. Remember when she came to beg you for forgiveness one hour after you threw the lasagna that she made on her feet because you didn't like how it tasted?”

“Oh yeah,” Matt grinned as he relished the memory. Emily had begged him in front of his friends and they had laughed for hours about it.

Another of their group chimed in. “Nah, she was totally humiliated tonight. I say a week.”

“Five days,” someone else cut in.

A waiter returned with Matt’s whiskey, and he took a slow sip while the gears in his mind turned. Emily had always been a soft touch, always forgiven him and always clung to the hope that he’d change. She’d given him everything—her time, her money, her loyalty. She was the kind of woman who never truly walked away.

“Yeah, right. Three days,” Matt said finally as he set his glass down with a sharp clink.

Marcus’s grin turned wolfish at his words. “That’s the spirit. So, what’s the pool?”

The guys all started tossing out numbers and their laughter grew louder as they counted out cash and scribbled names on napkins.

Matt leaned back in his chair and watched them with a detached amusement. This wasn’t cruelty…what they were doing that is—it was just facts.

Emily had always been a creature of habit and her habit was him. Sure, he’d started as some scrappy nobody with a half-baked business idea, but she’d been the one to believe in him, to invest in him.

And now? Now, he was Matt Forrest, CEO of a multi-million-dollar tech firm, with power, influence and a lifestyle she could only dream of. She might hate him tonight, but she’d come crawling back.

And he couldn't wait to see her beg him as always.

Marcus leaned closer just then and broke into Matt's thoughts. “You know, she’s probably crying in some cab right now. Wondering how she let herself get played so hard.”

Matt chuckled at that as he nodded his head to the beat of the music playing. “She played herself. If she wanted more, she should’ve been more.”

The group of men around him roared with laughter again and raised their glasses in a mock toast.

Matt laughed as well even as somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that this bet was cruel, even for him. But he silenced it quickly with another sip of whiskey.

When Emily came back—and she would—he’d deal with her then.

For now, he had a party to enjoy.

“Let’s raise the stakes,” Marcus said with a wicked grin. “Whoever guesses right gets all the cash and a bottle of Glenfiddich 50.”

“Done,” The men said with one voice before bursting into another round of laughter.

As the party went on, Matt couldn’t seem to shake off the look of cold rage Emily had given him before she walked out. It was a look she had never given him before.

Not that it mattered.

Because people like Emily? They always came back.