The thought of another man seeing Ainsley without any clothes on makes me want to punch my fist through a wall. I’dneverbring her here.
It’s probably why I ended up here right now, to be honest.
What now? What’s next for me?
It’s too soon to know. I’m not stupid enough to think I need an answer to that right now.
But it’s hard to think past the pain I’m feeling right now. I can’t stop seeing her sliding that ring off her finger and setting it on the counter.
Maybe it’s why my instinct was to show up here. Replace that image with something else. Tits, perhaps. There’s a room upstairs that’s basically a high-end strip club. I could go there and watch the women.
I don’t feel like it.
I take another sip of whiskey, and another, and another. I chug down the contents of the glass, and I return to the bar for another.
“Dex Bradley,” a sultry voice says beside me. “You come here lookin’ for me?” I glance over to see Tiffany. She’s a dancer on the Strip who I’ve fucked around with a few times when I’ve come here.
“No,” I answer.
She laughs. “Always did love your honesty. I heard you got married. Is your wifey here?”
I shake my head. The bartender passes my glass across the counter, and I sip it gratefully the second it’s in my hand. “She’s not.”
“Shame. Would love to watch you with her.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“Not going to happen.” My voice comes out a bit more aggressive than I mean for it to. Tiffany doesn’t know I’m going through something, and it’s really not fair to take it out on her.
I shouldn’t be here.
But I can’t go home, either.
And so I chug the rest of my whiskey, return to the car, and tell the driver my next destination.
CHAPTER 43: Ainsely Bradley
The Ring
I stare at the ring on the counter. I slid onto one of the stools there at the kitchen counter once he left, and I haven’t stopped staring at it since.
I’m trying to piece together what just happened.
We’re over. Really and truly. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I don’t want to end things with Dex. But I can’t live like this, either.
When I pictured life with my husband, I never pictured him lying to me—for protection or otherwise. I always assumed I’d end up with someone who’d come to me with his problems so we could work them out together. I pictured a true partnership.
But that’s not what we have, and it hasn’t been since the start. It’s why we never could’ve really made it out of the contract with a solid foundation for the rest of our lives. It’s always been a power struggle since I was just the hired help.
We didn’t expect to fall the way we did. We didn’t expect this to be anything more than what we both signed up for. It all started with that one little kiss at the altar after we said “I do,”and it snowballed from there. If I could go back in time and warn myself about what was going to happen, I would.
I’m a smart girl. I knew better than to get involved with someone like Dex Bradley. He’s a bad boy. A player. He doesn’t do relationships. We’re not just from two different decades. We’re from two completely different lifestyles. There’s too much that sets us apart, gaps too wide to navigate our way across.
Not to mention he’s my best friend’s brother.
Speaking of which, I still haven’t admitted any of this to Ivy. It’s not like I can call up my best friend and cry over the fact that I just ended things with the only man I’ve ever truly loved. The only man who’s ever loved me. My first in so many ways. Myonlyin so many ways, too.
I get up and make myself a drink—vodka and Sprite, heavy on the Sprite, with three cherries. I slip back onto my stool to continue my staring contest with the ring.
The vodka isn’t helping. I take three sips, eat the cherries, and push the glass away.
