I down the rest of my drink, drop the glass on the bar, and shake my head. “Later.”
I spend the next hour making the rounds, getting photos with the influential people here, and downing more scotch to numb myself, to try to stop seeing the devastation in Lennon’s eyes. There’s also a part of me fascinated that I’m feeling something other than the rage that has plagued me for a decade. No time to think about that now.
However, there’s one thought I can’t stop from surfacing over and over.
Lennon still cares.
Maybe it’s just because it’s Giada. Those two always were like oil and water. Like sugar and poison. But the hurt in Lennon’s eyes was unmistakable. And that leads to so many more questions.
We’ve started the first course of dinner when Mayor Suarez calls me and Giada to the stage. We climb it together to a round of thundering applause.
Giada glows next to me, always happiest when she’s the center of attention.
The mayor is saying something about the donation I’ve made to the Brighter Tomorrow’s Initiative, but I’m not listening.
Lennon is making her way toward the doors. Leaving. Walking out of my life once again. I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw aches.
Let her go. You have nothing to offer her, and you’ll never deserve her.
She stops and her eyes meet mine. I spend an eternity wrestling with the anger, the desire, the need she invokes in me. An eternity lodged in these few seconds of connection with her. I know I should look away, but my blood alcohol level is at the don’t give a fuck stage.
“…is also newly engaged,” Mayor Suarez says. The words catch my attention like a fish hook lodging in my brain, jerking me back to my reality.
Lennon’s eyes widen in distress.
“A toast to the lovely couple. May your union be happy and blessed,” he continues.
Giada grabs my hand, digging her nails into my wrist and turns me to face her. Her chin tips up and she smiles for the audience, butshe’s gritting her teeth. “I will not have my husband pining over some low-class trash. If you don’t let her go, I will destroy her.”
I stare into her dark brown eyes, imagining the blood vessels popping as I choke the breath from her. This marriage is going to end in one of us dead.
“Do you understand?” she whispers.
I nod once. If I speak, it will be a roar.
When we’re released from the stage, I return to the table. I can’t help but look behind me at the door.
Gunnar grabs my shoulder in his meaty hand, forcing me to look at him. His arctic blue eyes are shiny with sympathy. “She’s gone, brother.”
She’s gone, brother.
The same words he spoke when we let ourselves into her apartment ten years ago and found nothing but some furniture left behind.
Chapter 5
Lennon
“You go, Channing,” I sniff. I’m sitting on my sofa in a Disney T-shirt, boy shorts and long fuzzy pink socks watchingMagic Mike’s Last Dance. My hand dips into the popcorn bowl. Tonight is all about self-soothing. I’ll give myself one night to mourn. One night to cry as I imagine Sandro pledging his life to Giada. And then I’ll get on with my own life.
I grab for the Kleenex box as the TV screen blurs, let out a heartbroken moan and give in to another wave of sobs. Then I take a deep breath, wipe my nose and swollen eyes, and toss the damp Kleenex on top of the growing pile.
The worst part is this is self-imposed pain. I chose this. I left him. And I would do it again. There is no choice really. Especially now that I’ve seen what the last decade of living in violence and darkness has done to him. It has made him a hard, angry man. The Sandro I knew is obviously gone.
There’s a knock and then Sloane comes through the door, bags rustling. “Your door was unlocked, babe. Not safe.” She goes directly into the kitchen, drops the bags with a thud on the counter,and peers at me over the island bar that separates the kitchen from the living room.
The bar still has all the same decor from my childhood: a frog planter where I throw my keys, a few framed photos of me and Mom, decorative candles, and a large glass bowl full of seashells we collected over the years.
She tosses her keys into the frog planter. “Haven’t you heard about the robberies in this part of town? Some assholes robbed Mr. Chen at his restaurant on Wednesday night. Pistol-whipped him, sent him to the hospital.” She then turns and digs through my cabinets. “Poor man. You need to be careful at the diner tomorrow night.” She stops and stares at the TV. “Magic Mike? You’re really not okay are you?”
