I force a laugh, though it feels like swallowing glass. “Sorry,” I say lightly, trying to defuse his anger.
His scowl twists into a cocky grin, the one that makes me want to shrink into myself. “Always so eager to get your hands on me,” he says, his voice loud enough to carry. “Spilling my beer so you can lick it off later? Aim lower next time.”
My cheeks flush hotter than the bourbon Chase drinks on poker nights. Aim lower? Did he really just say that? Out loud? In front of his colleagues?
I’m about to respond, to do something—anything—when a voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“Aim lower, Martin? Come on now. The only reason anywoman would aim lower on you is to knee you in the crotch for being a fucktwat.”
I turn, startled, to find Skye standing there in all her fiery glory, her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. I see it in her eyes—years of biting her tongue at family dinners, of pretending not to notice the way Chase talks over me, interrupts me, belittles me. She’s warned me, gently and then not-so-gently, and I’ve always brushed her off. But tonight? She’s had enough.
Chase glares at her, his ego visibly wounded. “The only place your knees belong is on the floor, Kennedy. Be a good girl and show Matty boy here how you got your nickname, Jizzebel.”
The room seems to hold its breath. Even the faint jazz music playing in the background can’t cut through the suffocating tension. My mortification is complete.
Taking my queue to leave, I turn back to the bar to retrieve my clutch. “Matt, it was wonderful to meet you. I apologize for my husband’s lack of decorum and my friend’s equally inappropriate response.” I cast death glares at each of them before continuing, “Skye just got back into town so I’m going to head out with her.”
Turning to fully face my husband, I say, “I’ll see you at home.” Chase waves me off, saying, “Yeah, whatever,” before downing the rest of his beer in one go.
“Was that absolutely necessary?” I hiss, grabbing Skye’s wrist and dragging her toward the door.
“Necessary? No. Paramount to my villain arc? Absofuckinglutely,” she replies, her voice dripping with defiance. “I hate when he says shit like that about you, especially in front of other people.”
The cool night air outside feels like a slap to my overheated face as we step onto the sidewalk. I can still feel the weight of the bar’s atmosphere clinging to me, like a second skin I can’t shed.
“You caused a scene.”
“Icaused a scene?” she scoffs, “Please, Tori. He caused a scene, embarrassed the hell out of himself and everyone around him. All I did was knock him down a peg. He deserves worse.”
Skye crosses her arms, her expression a mix of frustration and concern as we walk down the sidewalk. The heels of my shoes click unevenly on the pavement, and I can’t bring myself to look at her. She’s waiting for me to say something—anything—but my mind is stuck replaying Chase’s words over and over again, each one hitting like a gut punch.
“You know,” Skye says finally, her voice sharp but not unkind, “you’re allowed to be mad. You don’t always have to make excuses for him.”
I stop walking, my breath hitching. “I’m not making excuses. He’s just… stressed. Work’s been a lot for him lately, and?—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tori,” she cuts me off, spinning to face me. Her eyes are fierce, burning with the kind of indignation I can never seem to muster for myself. “You’re always so quick to defend him. Do you even hear yourself? You just let him humiliate you in front of his colleagues, and you’re out here blaming it on stress?”
I flinch at her words, not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. “It’s not that simple, Skye.”
“It’sexactlythat simple,” she counters, stepping closer. Her voice softens, but the fire in her eyes doesn’t. “You’re married to a man who treats you like shit. Like you’re just… a convenience? Not even that. He treats you like you’re an inconvenience to him. A tagalong punching bag, there to take hits for his pleasure. It’s humiliating, and it’s not okay. And you just take it. Over and over and over again. You’re so busy trying to keep the peace that you’re letting him crush you in the process.”
Her words hit like a hammer, cracking something deep inside me that I’ve been holding together with duct tape and denial.
“It’s not like that,” I mumble, even though I know it is.
Skye takes a step back, running a hand through her hair as she exhales sharply. “Tori, do you even hear yourself? You’re miserable. You’re always walking on eggshells around him, bending over backward to make him happy, and for what? So he can call you boring in front of strangers? So he can make you feel small everychance he gets? That’s not you. The Tori I know is strong and fierce and takes up space, dammit!”
“I don’t…” My voice falters, and I feel the tears welling up. I don’t want to cry—not here, not now—but the weight of everything Skye is saying is too much to hold back.
“I know you love him,” she continues, her tone softening. “But love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to make you feel invisible or worthless. It’s supposed to lift you up, not tear you down.”
The tears spill over, hot and unrelenting, and I swipe at them angrily. “You don’t understand,” I say, my voice breaking. “It’s not that easy to just… to just walk away. We’ve been together for so long, and he’s been through so much. His parents?—”
“Tori,” Skye interrupts gently, placing her hands on my shoulders. Her gaze locks with mine, unwavering. “I’m not telling you to leave him. Not yet. I’m telling you to fight for yourself. Stop letting him treat you like you don’t matter. Stop shrinking yourself to fit into his version of what you should be. You deserve so much more—so much better—than this.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and undeniable. I want to argue, to defend Chase, to defend myself—but I can’t. Because deep down, I know she’s right.
“You don’t have to make any decisions right now,” Skye says, her voice softer now, almost tender. “But you need to start asking yourself some hard questions, Tori. What do you want? What do you deserve? And how long are you willing to wait for things to change?”
