“How’s my girl doing?” he asks. His words feel familiar.Safe.Like we haven’t spent years not speaking daily.
“I’m okay. I had the scan today. It’s a girl.”
“Aww, that’s amazing.” He pauses. “So, why do you sound so down?”
I hear a shuffle outside my door and roll my eyes. “Hold on, Andy.”
I make my way over to the door just as it swings open. Drifter fills the frame, his body tense, his jaw tight, and his nostrils flaring.
I groan impatiently. “Andy, I’ll have to call you back.”
I end the call.
“Yeah, she’ll ring you back, A-n-d-y,” he snarls.
His clear jealousy gets right under my skin.Why does he always have to fucking ruin any progress we make?
“What’s your fucking problem?” I demand.
“Andy? FuckingToy Story,Andy? The little weasel from school?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“Who I talk to has nothing to do with you, remember?”
He steps closer, his jaw ticking, his pupils dilated. “But . . .” He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. He wants to say something, but he’s unsure, and I can see the inner turmoil playing out right in front of me. “You kept my letter. You still love me.”
I frown before I realise what he means, and I turn to the drawer beside my bed and pull out his letter. “What, this letter?” I ask, holding it up. Then I grip it with two hands and rip it right down the middle. He glares, the pulse in his neck pumping with anger. “I kept it to remind me of how pathetic you are to think doing the bare minimum is acceptable and will fix this.” I rip the paper again, throwing the pieces in his face. “You fucking destroyed everything, and you think a few scribbled words willmake up for that kind of heartache?” I step closer, seeing the pain in his eyes as I lean in. “You don’t deserve me.”
He scrubs a hand over his tired face. “Hell, I’m sorry.” His voice is laced with pain, but I’m too angry to care.
I pull my hand back and slap him full force. “Sorry?” I repeat and press my finger to his chest. “Sorry? Well, that’s okay then,” I grit out. “If the almighty Drifter is sorry, let’s roll out the red carpet and forgive him,” I yell angrily.
“Fuck, Hell.” he hisses, gripping his cheek. “It was one time, and she didn’t mean anything to me. How many times should I apologise for it?”
“There aren’t enough apologies in the world,” I snap. “And you honestly think I believe it only happened one time? All those instances I saw her leaving your office, and you expect me to believe it was only the one time I walked in? Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”
His frown deepens, and he groans. “Fuck. You think this was a long-term thing?” He pulls his phone out his pocket, thrusting it towards me. “Fucking check. Go through everything. I promise.”
I scoff. “Your promises mean shit, Drifter. You promised me you wouldn’t go near her and look at what happened.”
He reaches for me, but I step back. “Hell, I don’t know how to prove to you it was just one time. I was drunk, and I went to tell her to stop trying it on.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that worked.” I shake my head in annoyance. “Just fucking go.” I’m exhausted from this nightmare, and I lower back onto the bed.
He waits a moment, staring at me before sitting beside me. “Look, I’ll do anything. I’ll never drink again. I’ll be sober for life. I want to be what you and our daughter need.” He looks down at my stomach. “I mean it, Hell. I’m prepared to give you whatever you need. Want the club girls gone? Done. Want me to get rid ofthe strip club? Done. Fuck, I’d even step down if you asked me to.”
I swallow hard, realising the last thing I want is him giving up the club for me. He loves it, and it’s been his entire life for so long. I could never ask that of him.
“Just leave me alone, please,” I whisper.
He gives a stiff nod and rises to his feet, heading for the door. “I won’t give up without a fight.”
I run my hands over my face.That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DRIFTER
Ihead straight for the bar, anger pouring from me. I brace myself against the dark wood and hang my head. Just when everything is getting better, I manage to fuck it all up . . .again.
