The waitress refilled my wine glass. I noticed how Ashton leaned back in his chair after finishing his meal, relaxed now, savoring his drink. His gaze never left me. It was as if he were studying my thoughts, reading my body language, searching for cracks.
I did not flinch.
Today, I felt brave enough to sit in public beside the man who had left nothing but heartbreak behind. It felt strange, sitting across from him like a stranger when we had once known each other in every possible way.
“Tell me about your life, Bailey,” he said, setting his glass down.
I nearly laughed.
Did he really think he had earned the right to ask that question? Should I tell him my life was wonderful, raising the seven-year-old son he abandoned? That I survived just fine without him? Of course I would not.
“Why?” I asked coolly. “Are you curious to know whether I managed to build a good life after you and after this town chased me away? After I had to leave everything behind?”
“I never drove you away,” he said firmly. “I was looking for you. You were already gone.”
The audacity of that statement stunned me.
He was looking for me? After calling me a whore?
I scoffed. “Hard to believe. Unless you were looking for me to beg for forgiveness.”
“Maybe I expected you to fight for the truth,” he shot back.
I laughed sharply. “Why would I fight for something I never did? Why would I need to prove myself to someone who chose to believe lies?” My voice hardened. “The man I once loved was nothing but a coward.”
I pushed my chair back. “This is pointless. Sitting here with you is a waste of my time. I am leaving.”
“Sit down, Bailey,” Ashton said, his tone stern. “We are not finished.”
I ignored him and stood.
“Oh, I am finished,” I snapped. “I have been finished for a long time.” I turned back to face him, anger rising fast and hot. “You know what makes me wonder? Maybe I was not the only one being accused of cheating.”
His jaw tightened.
“Tell me, Ashton,” I continued, my voice sharp. “Did you always have feelings for Lynda? Or were you already betraying me while we were together?”
“That is enough.”
Ashton stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. We faced each other now, the tension thick and unmistakable.
“I never cheated on you, Bailey,” he said, his voice low and harsh.
I met his glare without blinking.
“Now you understand how it felt,” I said coldly. “To be accused of something you never did. To be judged without proof. To be discarded without being heard.”
My chest burned as I reached for my bag.
“You made your choice years ago,” I added. “Do not expect me to carry your guilt now.”
Without waiting for his response, I turned away, leaving him standing there, surrounded by silence and staring at the wreckage he had once created.
Chapter 11
I was already walking away from the restaurant when Ashton shouted from behind me, but I ignored him. I was about to order an Uber when the screech of tires cut through the air. Ashton’s car swerved up behind me and stopped abruptly in front of my path.
“Get in, Bailey.”
