He’s trying not to smile. “It’s not a big deal.” He reaches into the back seat and a crisp, white dress shirt materializes. He shrugs it on and buttons it up. Not a care in the world.
I don’t understand his nonchalance right now.
“How are you not upset? I’m practically shaking with rage! I want to go put red ants in her underwear drawer! Put hot sauce in her coffee creamer! Duct-tape her car doors shut!”
“Ooo, how devious. Do the feds know about you?”
I lightly smack his shoulder. “Don’t laugh! This is serious.” For some reason, I’m blinking back tears right now. “She—she publicly shamed you for having erectile dysfunction, Nathan. That’s a horrible thing to do! And humiliating. And you’re the nicest guy in the whole world! And I HATE HER!”
Nathan barks out a laugh and his head tilts up to heaven like he’s praying for wisdom. His big hand rakes through his hair then he turns his eyes on me again. “Bree, thank you for your concern, but I don’t have erectile dysfunction. She blew the story out of proportion and was just trying to dig at me for not having sex with her…and probably for choosing you over her the day we broke up. But the joke is on her because, as you’ve pointed out, it’s very insensitive to shame anyone for the condition.” He gestures toward my phone. “Just look at the comments at the end of that article. She’s getting terrible backlash, and men are saying they feel better knowing an athlete struggles with the same condition they have.” He shrugs again. “All in all, not a terrible outcome.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he’s so noble. But my brain stopped listening after one very important key statement.
“Wait. Go back. Did you say for not…” Again I’m at a loss for words.
Nathan Donelson did not sleep with the underwear model he dated for two months? My brain is not computing. It’s going to shut down, and fumes are about to puff out of my ears.
“You never had sex with her? Why?” I ask this question even though I shouldn’t. But I need to know, because Nathan is…Nathan! Just look at him. He oozes sexuality, and every woman in the world wants him. Even Mrs. Dorthea probably has the hots for him!
His face is frighteningly serious. We’re not joking around anymore. “Because I’m celibate.”
“What!” I accidentally yell this so loud a woman walking beside the truck turns to try to peer through the darkened window. Scram, lady. I look back at Nathan and whisper, “You’re a virgin?”
“No.” His smirk is a little too indulgent if you ask me. “I guess I should say I’ve been celibate lately.”
I shake my head, thinking of all the nights I wanted to cry myself to sleep thinking of him holding another woman in his arms. Holding Kelsey. Turns out, he wasn’t. “I don’t understand…she was there the morning I brought coffee over.”
“You’re at my house a lot in the mornings too. That doesn’t mean we’ve done anything physical.”
I suddenly can’t swallow. Or feel my toes. What’s happening?! Why am I reacting this way? It changes nothing really—except I feel like everything I knew has changed tonight. My foundation is shaking.
Nathan sees my wide eyes and rumbles out a short chuckle. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”
“Because,” I say emphatically like that’s enough of an answer. “You could have anyone you wanted at the snap of your fingers. Why would you be celibate?” I NEED TO KNOW! There’s something he’s still not telling me, and it’s bothering me. I didn’t think he and I had any secrets, but now I’m learning he has two big ones! How many more are there?
His dark eyes stare back at me. “Not anyone I want.”
My heart races up my throat. Those words mixed with the night and the fact that he bought my studio and we spend nearly every day together…it all suddenly holds so much implication, and…could this be it?! Could he mean—