“That was a fucking shitshow,” I groan, slumping in my chair with my head rocked back, eyes closed, red hot anger flashing behind my eyes.
“We did the right thing,” Austen says carefully, like that’s going to help, like I didn’t just rip my heart out and set it on fire.
Instantly, my temper flares. I’ve been on the edge all week, and now I’m spiraling. “How the fuck was letting the best thing that ever happened to me godoing the right thing?” I roar so loud it’s a good job the walls are soundproof.
Austen holds my stare steady. “I understand you don’t want to hear this now, but someone who was screwing you over wasnever the best thing that ever happened to you. If you let her stay, you’d regret it down the line. It would’ve eaten away at you.”
“God, the way she looked at me when she left,” I blow out a breath, clawing my hands through my hair. “She didn’t look guilty. She looked betrayed.”
Austen’s tone remains firm. “The evidence was too much, Chase. Even without those photos. You must see that.”
Those fucking photos.
Every time I look at them, it boils my blood. The thought that something more was going on between her and Elliot has been gnawing at my mind all week. Just the idea of him laying so much as a finger on her is enough to turn me into a homicidal maniac.
The only peace I’ve found was last night, sinking into bed and holding her in my arms, dreading the moment the sun would rise and tear it all apart.
Some dumb part of me kept hoping she’d show up at that meeting with an explanation. That she’d been forced. Blackmailed. Anything. I would’ve taken anything.
Anything but the way she so easily walked away. Refusing to even talk to me. Or look at me. And now she’s gone, leaving me with nothing but this agony in my chest and a whole heap of doubt and regret.
“Come to our house tonight,” Austen offers, concern in his eyes. “See the kids, have dinner.”
I shake my head. The idea of playing happy families with Austen used to be enough. Don’t get me wrong, I love those kids. But today, it only serves as a reminder of what I don’t have.
Because right now, I need to forget. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the fallout.
Without another word, I push up from the chair, snatch my jacket, and head for the door. I can’t stand another second trapped in this office.
“Cancel any meetings I’ve got, Bethany,” I bark as I stride past her desk.
“Where are you going?” Austen calls after me.
“Out.”
As the elevator slides open on the ground floor, a crowd of waiting employees part as I cut through without a word. I don’t call Albert. I want to be alone.
Out on the sidewalk, I flag a yellow cab and jump in. It’s been a long damn while since I’ve ridden one of these.
“Velvet Lounge” are the first words that spew out of my mouth. I settle against the cracked vinyl, eyes shutting tight, and let the silence try — and fail — to shut out the demon in my mind.
The cab pulls up outside Velvet Lounge. It seems different in the daylight, quieter, the neon sign flickering weakly against the sunlight.
The bar is nearly empty, save for a few scattered patrons in the dim light. I march straight to the bar, dropping onto a stool, every muscle wound tight.
“Whiskey, please, Lacey,” I order, my voice rough.
She flashes a sultry smile as she slides the glass across the counter, her tooth catching on her bottom lip.
“You look like you could use some cheering up,” she purrs.
“I don’t,” I say, lifting the glass. “Not the kind you’re offering.” I flash her a half-smile — it always pays to be an asshole with a smile on your face.
She just winks the same way she always does. That knowing little smirk plastered on her lips, the one that says she’s certain I’ll cave, eventually.
“What happened?” she teases, leaning in as she takes my glass for a refill. “Some lucky girl finally break your heart?”
“I don’t have a heart, Lacey. You should know that by now.”
