Page 111 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Worse. You wouldn’t mind just giving me the bottle, would you?”

He runs a hand over my hair. “I got you covered, kid. Any preference?”

Something to burn out the image of him holding her hand?To Louie, I merely shake my head.

He jerks his chin behind me. “They’re all behind you.”

“I know. I just can’t face them...” My voice trails off when he pierces me with his black eyes.

“No, kid. I mean, they got your back. Whatever’s haunting you, the people in this room have you.”

I wrap my arms around myself to hold back the shudder that racks through it. “No one can get me through this. I just have to endure it, Louie.”

“Then let us help you, Sula.”

I close my eyes, knowing I’m dreaming while awake. There’s no way possible I just heard Brendan’s voice. Tears I thought I finished shedding before I strode through the doors of this club trickle down my face. “You’re not here.”

“Wrong. I’m right behind you—where I’ll stand until the day I die. Angie called me the minute after you hung up. I jumped on the baby jet and flew up. It was sheer happenstance I snuck in the back before you got here.”

Whirling around, I hurl myself into my brother’s arms, knocking his ball cap from his head. Harsh sobs erupt from my chest.

“Christ, I’m going to kill him,” Brendan mutters.

I shake my head against his chest.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because then a part of me dies.”

He tips my chin up. “Sula, a part of you is dying every moment you’re with him.”

“I just need it to be over,” my voice warbles.

Before Brendan can respond, DJ Kensington starts in on her next song. My lip trembles as her clear voice sings harmony over Hozier’s “Movement.”

A cry is torn from me. Even Brendan curses.

This love song about being awestruck by one’s lover slams into my chest. With Kensington’s dynamic twist on top of Hozier’s seductive voice, it’s as if they were meant to sing a duet instead of the powerful solo released to the world.

“I feel every emotion in this song, especially the line about Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.”

Brendan cups my chin. “Are we going to get you back when this is done?”

I give him the complete and honest truth. “No. And I think that’s what West intended.”

Hours later, Brendan refuses my protest that I don’t need to be escorted to my front door. “My patience is at an all-time low, Sula. Now is not the time to push it.”

Just as I’m about to respond, the door flies open, and a harried Arek stands there. He bellows, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying your phone for hours.”

I refuse to give him an answer. I refuse to explain my behavior or who I’ve been with. Instead, I turn to Brendan and ask, “Can I have your handkerchief?”

Without hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and hands it to me. It’s stained with the mascara he wiped up from my cheeks earlier.

I approach Arek and raise it to his cheeks. Swiping, I coldly assure him, “Peach really isn’t your color.”

His whole body locks beneath my touch. I have an up close view of his eyes flaring wildly. “Sula—”

“Don’t!” I snap. I shove the handkerchief into his chest before shoving past him.