Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (reading eggs books txt) 📖

I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

Though the top layer is melted creaminess and the toffee splinters wink invitingly at me, my stomach won’t accept anything. My belly has been in a knotted, petrified state ever since I exited Devon’s hotel room.

Two days, six hours, and forty-three minutes ago.

Not that I’m counting. Or at least not consciously.

But my soul is frozen in that moment when Devon admitted I was but a dalliance for him—a game he played to satisfy his curiosity.

Eva arches her perfectly trimmed eyebrows, then lowers the spoon. She walks around our kitchen island and sits down beside me on a chair.

“Laia, querida, you need to eat something. You never refuse Tio Mario’s ice creams. They’re your favorites. That’s why I carried them in the cooler with me.”

I pat my cousin’s hand. “It’s so sweet of you to be here and babysit me while Chelsea is at work, but it isn’t necessary. You should get back to San Sebastian. To Nathan and to your school.”

Eva twirls a finger beside her temple. “¿Estas loca o que? Yeah, you must be crazy if you think I’d leave you alone with your heartbreak. Don’t you recall how you helped me through my rough patch with Nathan? No, querida, I’m here. I will stay as long as I need until you feel better.”

I recall the intervention I had to perform when Eva found out about her husband and his brother’s crazy bet about her back while they were still just dating.

But her situation then, and mine now, are entirely different.

“Eva, you were in a relationship with Nathan when all hell broke loose. My heartache compared to yours is just silly. It’s the fruit of stringing together my ludicrous hopes about Devon into a fantasy. I knew he was a playboy, and playboys aren’t interested in relationships, especially not with hopeless romantics like me. But that still didn’t stop me from dreaming.”

Eva pulls back her black tresses, almost as long as my own, into a ponytail and blows the air from her cheeks. “First of all, Laia, quit this self-blaming act. If anyone is to be chided, it’s your irresponsible boss. He should have never toyed with you if he didn’t have serious intentions. It was just mean of him. Even if…” Eva’s voice trails off in a meaningful way.

My eyes fly to her face.

She’s studying me with a calculating glance.

“Even if, what?” I ask, slightly irritated.

My cousin should know better than to play with my nerves and patience right now.

She inhales and shrugs. “Even if we need to consider the hypothesis that Devon lied to you about something entirely different.”

My mouth moves into a confused frown. “What are you even talking about?”

“Well…” Eva adjusts her pink blouse’s top button. “I’m just pointing out that the events you described to Chelsea and me don’t really add up. Why would Devon kiss you, spend the evening in a lovey-dovey mood with you, and hop into his ex’s bed? Why would he say he loves you and then deny the very statement in the same conversation?”

“Because he’s a player. He was just messing around with me.”

Eva narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe this?”

“Yes,” I blurt out, but there is an almost imperceptible shake in my snappy answer.

My mind drifts back to our last kiss.

I ignore the thrills that race through my veins at the memory of his lips, and focus on his last words before his mouth captured mine.

If you don’t believe me, then believe this…

Eva brushes back a string of hair behind my ear. “You see, querida, you yourself have doubts about what went down with Devon. If you learned anything from mine and Nathan’s example, then it should be that things aren’t always as straightforward as ‘I love you, and you love me’. Or better, in the quintessence, it’s always that simple. But we are often too wrapped up in our messy realities and ghosts of the past to accept and admit our feelings for what they are.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “I did recognize what I felt for Devon. I was even enough of a dimwit to tell him.”

“Perhaps.” Eva bobs her head. “But at the first shadow of a doubt, you backed out on him. Which kind of proves my point. You’re stuck in your own inferiority complex and self-doubt, as well as being a prisoner of your unrealistic aspirations about Prince Charming.”

My nostrils flare. “You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t settle for anything but my own fairy tale. You even gave me that mug to remind me of that.”

Eva chuckles. “I did. But you can have a fairy tale with someone who isn’t perfect like Prince Charming. Someone who has a tormented past.”

“I know that,” I growl, “but is it too much to ask that the man who drops me off after the most incredible evening I’ve ever had doesn’t run straight into another woman’s arms?”

Eva ignores my annoyed tone and, instead, leans forward. “Are you absolutely certain it was Devon who invited his ex to his room? That they did anything except talk? She wasn’t there in the morning, was she?”

“No. She was not. But I’m sure—”

Eva holds up her hand. “Didn’t you say, and I quote, ‘He even had the nerve to ask me with a genuinely baffled expression whether I thought he’d slept with his ex’?”

“What if I did?”

Eva shakes her head. “Don’t you think Devon was bewildered because you accused him wrongly?”

“That can’t be.” I tap my hand on our table with a loud thump that also hurts my palm. Eva only smiles at me coyly as I rub the tender spot with my thumb.

“Can’t it?”

Her provoking tone bothers me, but I have to admit her reasoning isn’t entirely off. If I’m honest, Devon’s horrified expression when he asked me if I believed he’d been with Morgan was a detail I glossed over, and each time, it confused me. I explained his reaction by blaming his potential shock that I