My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 139 Hey Beautiful

Evelyn

Sixteen days had come and gone. Well, more precisely, sixteen days, eight hours, and forty-five minutes-I'd always been weak with numbers, but now I was sharp-pretty sharp. Thanks to Jacob, who might have messed up most aspects of my life, but inadvertently helped me strengthen my weakest point-math.

Did I owe him a thank you? Hell, no.

He'd shattered the most resilient part of my being-trust. Now, I knew better than to dole it out like candy on Halloween. There was a hundred percent chance it would get fucking trampled, just like that Italian bastard had done. He fucking ruined me.

God! I might never be able to fucking trust anyone!

With a groan, I rolled out of bed, my feet sliding into cozy slippers. I silenced the godforsaken alarm and stood up, stealing a glance at the mirror. The reduction in my dark circles was a welcome sign-I was making progress, and moving on. So were my dark circles, apparently.

Could I finally consider I was getting over him? Maybe, yeah.

My phone chimed, breaking the silence of the morning. Grabbing it from the nightstand, I unlocked the screen to find the familiar ID glowing-Cameron. Cameron Blake.

My newfound distraction.

I tapped into our conversation, and his text lit up the screen "Awake, beautiful?"

"Just stirring, Charmer," I replied.

"Just have to be enough of a charmer to charm you."

"Well, if you hadn't charmed me, we wouldn't be talking," I found myself smiling this time.

"I am flattered! Anyways, don't be late-I will be waiting for you at the cafe."

"I am never late."

why you made

was to

I pass

Now

water cascaded down in a proper shower-I shaved, shampooed,

him, but they say first impressions matter, don't they? So, I put effort into presenting myself as anything but a woman trying to mend her shattered heart after loving a man who treated it like dirt, crushed it underfoot, and laughed in my face. There was no

desperate attempt to evict Jacob from my mind—a futile effort, I must admit. Nevertheless, I persisted. I refused to become that stereotypical heartbroken woman who spends years weeping over a sick bastard. I wanted to move forward, and Cameron stumbling upon my social media after all these years, reaching out to me, felt like a sign. He remembered me from high school, where he saw me as the most beautiful girl in class—a perception I certainly didn't share, but perhaps in his eyes, I was. He was the nerdy, shy kid back then, often bullied for his acne-ridden face, yet

pondered how he looked now-still

a few decent side profiles, but I'd stumbled upon some abs pictures...and they were, well, you know enough to make a girl swoon, but still not enough to make me forget how Jacob Adriano looked in a plain shirt and

was I even thinking

me-the bitch in my

with beautiful red high heels. Grabbing a small beige bag, I quickly applied makeup, and styled my hair,

myself

mirro

in food and sleep, a futile attempt to escape thoughts of him. It helped me forget during the day but did nothing to spare me from the dreams where I found myself tucked in his

around me. His scent. His breath against mine. His lips on mine. I missed him-every part of him. As mine. When he was

flickered to

calling and texting incessantly, and I'd been avoiding him like the plague. I didn't want to talk to him, no matter how much I missed him. I didn't even want to see his damn

choice by muting him, but I still couldn't help but check his messages every few hours. It became a habit. A

"Come in."

look stunning, Evie," she approached me, awestruck. "Everyone's going to be

only I can

look stunning," she chuckled back, nudging my arm with a playful smile, "Tell

crush on me for a while. So, I thought, why not make his evening?" I chuckled, "After all, my days are mostly spent dwelling on a jerk who didn't give a fuck about me despite claiming to love

my spirits, "Today's about your date-just

sound of my phone chiming. It was a text from

like you're running