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“Excuse me,” Foster snapped as I pulled away from him.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” I said firmly, though my heart was racing. “Be grateful I’m even giving you the chance to talk.”
“Don’t be like that,” he said, motioning toward an unoccupied couch. “I want to apologize.”
I sat down, making sure to keep some distance between us. Despite my resolve, I couldn’t deny the impact of Foster’s devastatingly good looks. They were having an effect on me I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Apologize for what?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively.
“For everything,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity. “I hurt you, and I feel terrible about it.”
“You were an asshole,” I shot back. “You knew my history, and yet you still manipulated me. I lost myself with you. When it ended, you left me shattered.”
“It was wrong to ask you to marry me,” he admitted, looking regretful. “It was too soon. I was young and stupid.”
“We were both young and stupid,” I said. “I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you.”
“And what beautiful eyes they are,” he said, his gaze lingering on me.
He reached up to touch my cheek, but I recoiled. The last thing I needed was for him to invade my space. He withdrew his hand as if burned.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“What do you want from me?” I demanded, feeling a surge of frustration.
“Another chance,” he said, his voice earnest.
“It’s too late,” I said firmly. “I’m over you.”
“It’s not,” he insisted. “I’ve changed. When I saw you on the dance floor, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. My date left.”
“If she had any sense, she’d run far away from you,” I retorted.
“The old me wouldn’t have cared,” Foster said. “But I understand why she left, and I feel horrible. I’ll send roses.”
I laughed bitterly. “Like you did before? Dozens of roses each time you messed up. I took you back over and over again.”
“Would you take me back now?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
“I said no,” I reiterated.
“Why?” he pressed.
“A leopard doesn’t change its spots,” I replied. “Deep down, you haven’t changed.”
“How can you possibly know that?” he challenged.
Foster ran his manicured fingers through his hair. I had to fight the urge to slap him. So many nights after our breakup, I had cried myself to sleep, with only Morgan to comfort me.
“I just know,” I said. “Besides, I’m with someone now.” I almost smiled at the look of disappointment on his face.
“Who?” he demanded, his voice tinged with jealousy.
I laughed, savoring his reaction. “You wouldn’t know him.”
“I know enough about him,” Foster said. “If he really loved you, he’d be here.”
I scoffed at his attempt to undermine Lincoln. “He’s at home, waiting for me. This is Morgan’s bachelorette party, and you’re intruding.”
