“How is Marcus?” I asked, referring to the last football player who happened to split our relationship apart.
“Marcus Mulldone?” Aaron raised his eyebrows and lost the smile on his face for the very first time that morning. He never really liked when I brought up his boyfriends or sex buddies, old or new.
“Yes. The one and only. You dumped me for him and moved into his apartment on Spanish Street in Naples eight months ago. Can you recall this, or is it a blur for you?” I sounded bitchy but really didn’t mean to. Frankly, I just wanted to hear what was going on in his life, details I had missed while at rehab.
He shook his head, bowed it, and admitted, “Marcus left. Karma caught up with me. I should have known it would. You can’t hurt a guy and not expect it to leave you alone. Do you know what I mean?”
I wanted to chuckle, but I didn’t. Good friends never rubbed salt into each other’s open wounds. Instead, I nodded and attempted to console him.
“When did he leave you?”