Quinn’s eyes go wide, and I’d think it was from what I’d said except for the fact that she’s staring at something over my shoulder. I crane my neck around and my heart drops to the floor.
Hannah is right next to Sawyer by the bar, chatting with a saccharine smile on her face. Sawyer might be smiling back, but she has a wild look in her eyes that tells me she wants to tear my ex limb from limb.
“Looks like Hannah found your girl after all,” Quinn observes.
Shit.
Another Twist of the Proverbial Knife
Sawyer
Ihave a glass of whiskey in each hand as I scan the crowd for Wes. My gaze locks onto him from across the room, like I’m programmed to home in on him no matter where we are.
He’s striding toward his mom, his brows drawn tight with tension. Something’s bothering him. It’s ridiculous how acutely aware I’ve become of his every move, every shift in his expression.
I’m so focused on whatever has him upset that I nearly walk straight into a woman who steps in front of me. I pull up short, the whiskey sloshing dangerously in the glass.
“Oops, sorry,” she says with a smile that’s damn near venomous—though she doesn’t look sorry at all.
“Oh, it’s fine,” I reply, stepping to the side to move past her. But she doesn’t budge, instead eyeing me with a scrutinizing gaze as she downs her glass of champagne.
“I saw you come in with Wes. How do you two know each other?”
I don’t know who she is, but the way she says his name—possessive, almost territorial—tells me all I need to know. She thinks she has some kind of claim on him.
I take a slow sip of my whiskey, leveling her with a measured look. She’s blonde, blue-eyed, slim, and has a sense of ease here that I'll never have. The perfectly coiffed hair, polished nails, and diamond earrings practically screamcity girl.She belongs here. I don’t.
I debate how to answer her. Wes and I aren’t dating, so calling him my boyfriend wouldn’t be accurate. And I don’t need to stir up trouble—this ishisworld, not mine.
But then again…
“Oh, Wes and I go way back,” I say with a small, knowing smile.
Okay, maybe I would needle her alittle.
She purses her lips, eyes narrowing before she changes her features into the fake sugar-sweet smile she started with. “How nice.” The venom lurking behind her eyes tells me she doesn’t think it’s nice at all. “He must have gotten so bored in Hicksville he forgot he had a good thing waiting for him at home.”
I down the whiskey and hand it off to a passing server who’s collecting empty glasses from around the hall.
“I’m Sawyer, and you are?” I can’t fake a smile quite like she can, but I don’t need to pretend to be nice to this condescending snob. If she sees the anger burning behind my eyes, then so be it.
“How silly of me. I’m Hannah. I’m Wes’ fiancée.” She flashes the diamond on her finger at me. How had I missed that rock on her hand? I’mbrought up short, frozen by the shock of seeing Wes’ ring on someone else.
She’s wearing his ring. It feels like I've been doused in cold water, and I bite my cheek until I taste blood.
They aren’t together. She left him. But here she was, staking a claim and wearing his ring.
I grit my teeth and tilt my head. “Don't you meanex-fiancée?”
“Oh, honey," she says, tone thick with condescension. "I have every intention of keeping this ring on my finger, right where it belongs. I have no doubt Wes will be on board as soon as I get the chance to talk to him.”
She can’t be serious. This can’t be real.
Hannah’s smile is gleeful and devious, and I’d really love to punch that perfect nose and ruin it for some plastic surgeon to fix later.
Wes chooses that moment to show up. “Hannah.” His tone is expressionless, but she slides up next to him and threads an arm through his.
“It’s so good to see you, baby,” she gushes like I’m not even here.
