I shrug, even though his response hurts. I don’t know what I want from him right now, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t that.

It just reminds me how stupid I felt when I found out about the marriage. When it confirmed all the rumors about them. The rumors I had been intent on ignoring.

And how foolish I’d felt—all over again—when I went to see him in New York. I hadn’t learned my lesson then, but I was doing my best to not make that mistake a third time.

“I should have known” is what I say.

I adjust my purse—the damn strap is always sliding down, reminding me that I need to stand up straight.

“You should have known?” Gabe asks. “What does that mean?”

I look him in the eye. “I should have known that something was going on between the two of you. That you lied through your teeth when you told me that you were just friends.”

He flinches.

“It was complicated,” he says.

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” I say. “It’s always complicated when you’re planning to run off to Vegas with your secret girlfriend/co-star, but the girl they send to do a profile on you is dumb, adoring, and easy.”

“You weren’t dumb,” Gabe says. “You’re not dumb.”

“Just adoring and easy.”

“Those are your words,” he says.

I am about one more stupid comment away from reaching over and throttling him.

He runs a hand over his face. It’s annoying how nice his hands are. Strong and sturdy. There are some scars on his fingers. I don’t remember those scars from before.

“Jacinda and me…” He pauses. “It was an arrangement, of sorts.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“I should have told you,” he says.

“Told me what, exactly?” I ask. “About your ‘arrangement’? Is that Hollywoodspeak for an open marriage? I’ve heard of the concept, you know. It’s not exclusive to you horny celebrities—some people even do it ethically.”

Gabe looks tired and part of me thinks that I should go easy on him, but another part of me thinks that I’ve spent way too much time in my life going easy on men.

I know that Gabe isn’t Jeremy. That their failures aren’t the same, the hurt they caused is different, but right now I really don’t care. I want to be mad at a man, and this one will do just fine.

“It isn’t what you think,” he says. “It wasn’t some big, grand plan. My management, my family, they were all just as surprised as you were.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say.

That seems to upset him.

“I was young and impulsive and stupid,” Gabe says. “We were sleeping together—a friends-with-benefits kind of thing. Casual.”

“I’m sure,” I say.