Body and heart, I'm needy for her.
But she's someone else's, and the thought rips me apart. It shreds every thought and feeling I have, leaving me desolate.
"I'm sure he regrets leaving," I say, my voice hoarse, raw.
The space between her eyebrows pleats. "And you would know that how?"
We hold one another's gaze for a long second, and then I shrug. "It's just a feeling I have."
"A feeling?" She steps in closer, her jaw taut. "Well, well, if that doesn't smell like utter bullshit, I don't know what does."
I tear myself away from her hypnotizing gaze. This woman is going to dismantle me, and fuck if I'm not ready to hand myself over to be shredded. My heart didn't stand a chance against her when I was a kid, what was I doing thinking I could come back here and stay strong a second time?
"Hey, you two," Hugo cuts in. I didn't notice him approach, but suddenly he's right there, elbowing his way between us. "Those beers won't stay cold forever. Can we wrap this up and get back to the table?"
Beers? I glance at the bar top. When did those get there?
Daisy grabs one beer and scurries away as fast as a person can while holding a full drink.
"You dumbass motherfucker," Hugo hisses under his breath.
I lay down enough cash to cover the beers and a tip, leaning my elbows on the edge of the bar and stopping just short of hanging my head in my hands. "Whatever you're about to say, Hugo, I don't want to hear it right now."
Hugo ignores me, plowing right through my plea for his silence. "You had your chance to tell her the truth that first night. You didn't. And now here you are,Peter, standing in public with Daisy staring at her mouth like you're going to come unglued ifyou don't kiss her." He gives me a hard look. "Are you trying to make everything you came back to accomplish even harder for yourself? Her fiancé is twenty feet away from you."
It's a hell of a lot easier to point out his transgressions than my own, so I say, "Speaking of Duke, I guess you're cheating on me." I pick up a beer and take a deep drink. "I turned the other cheek when it was Ambrose, but this? Hugo, I don't know. This might be unforgivable."
Hugo reaches for his beer. "It's a men's group. We get together once a month and shoot the shit."
"About The Iliad? That's called a book club."
"Books are one of the topics we cover." He sighs, gathers a deep breath, and slowly lets it go. "It's important for men to have other men to talk to."
I happen to know exactly how imperative it is to have other men to talk to. Some of the deepest friendships formed are that of men in combat together. We literally hold one another's lives in our hands.
I don't say that, though, because I'm feeling about as prickly as the teddy bear cholla we passed walking into what I thought was a fishing shop. "Aww. How cute." My lower lip forms a pout. "Do you sit in a circle and sing Kumbaya? Play that game where you slap your neighbor's hand and sing about a bullfrog?"
"Very funny," he deadpans.
I snap my fingers and point at him in anI've got it!way. "It's a circle jerk. That's why you like it so much."
Hugo rubs a hand over his forehead. "You're unbelievable."
"Hey, I get it." I point back at myself. "I like a good hand job as much as the next guy. I just don't like it from the guy next to me. But," I slap his back once, "you do you, buddy."
"Fuck you," Hugo mutters, grabbing his beer. "Let's go make small talk, finish your stupid beer, and go. I'm done watching you eye fuck Daisy in front of her fiancé."
That is not what I'm doing. I would never put her in that position. But, just in case Hugo's right, and I don't realize I have hearts popping out of my eyes when I look at her, I make it a point to take the empty space beside her, not across from her. And then, even better, I turn to my left to talk, making it so I couldn't look at Daisy if I wanted to.
On my left is Duke, unfortunately.
"So, Peter," he starts, appraising me with cool eyes. "Tell me about your background."
I shrug, appearing nonchalant, but on the inside I'm racing to figure out what this asshole's game is. "Not much to tell. I was in the military for ten years, and I was sent home for an injury."
"Abadinjury," Daisy adds, lightly elbowing me in the side.
"Pretty bad," I concede, still keeping my gaze trained away from her. "Some surgery. A lot of physical therapy."
