“I get you’re under a lot of stress. I get that. But you don’t do shit like this,” Henry said, jabbing a finger at me. “Almost getting into a fistfight with Mateo? Oli told me you haven’t been answering his callsfor weeks. Picking a fight with me? And now cheating?”
My body locked, absorbing each word like impact after impact.
“And yeah, why don’t we talk about that too? Because it seems to me like you’re doing what you always did with your ‘relationships,’ just slapping a boyfriend label on it this time to make it look more presentable. And I know you don’t give a fuck what people think about that, so the only logical reason you could keep up this charade is to force distance between you and Ethan—which means you’re just fucking using that guy. Do you realize that? How fucked up that is?”
The words were caught in my throat. Nothing came out.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, Ash. You’re a goddamn robot yourself. What the fuck happened to your programming?”
The panic surged again—fast, rising from somewhere I couldn’t reach or control. The floor felt unstable beneath my feet, like everything I had carefully kept aligned was coming apart all at once. He wasn’t wrong—and the fact that he wasn’t, made something inside me cave in. Every plan I’d set out for myself—for us—was crumbling, and somehow, I was still the one it all led back to. Even if I had no idea how the fucking wrecking ball had picked up this much speed, I’d been the one to set it off.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” My voice came out small. Unrecognizable.
Henry didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, chest still heaving with leftover anger, like he didn’t know what to do with the version of me standing in front of him.
The silence stretched.
Some of the fight left his shoulders. “Fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “That was harsh. I’m sorry?—”
“No.” My hands settled on my hips, needing something solid to hold me upright. “No. That was called for.”
He studied me for another second, the anger fading into something heavier. “I know you’re not a robot,” he said more gently. “You just pretend to be. But lately… you’re not doing such a great job of it.”
A humorless laugh left me.
“It’s messy,” he went on. “Everything is messy.”
“I know.”
“I thought you didn’t like messy.”
I didn’t.
Everything needed to get back in order.
“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault,” I said, dragging my hands through my hair. “Clearly.”
Henry just watched me like he was trying to decide whether to push again or back off. “What are you going to do?”
What I should’ve done the second I saw Ethan in Madrid.
“Leave.”
He nodded and gave my back a quick pat as we moved toward the table again. The second I saw the back of Ethan’s head, heat flared through my chest—my body reacting on instinct, remembering his mouth, his breath, those barely there sounds he made against my lips. Denying what I felt for him had always been a losing battle. I’d known it since the night we kissed in the Hamptons. I’d been gone for him ever since.
The closer we got, the more I noticed the tension in him: shoulders creeping up, arms crossed tight, and weight shifting from foot to foot. He was annoyed. Or pissed. Something was winding him up again.
Then I saw who he was talking to. Not Mateo. Not Luca. That guy from the office. The one who wouldn’t stop hovering around him. Bruno. Ethan always looked like he’d rather be anywhere else when that man was near—and tonight was no exception.
The impulse to step in burned through me, but I tamped it down. First things first.
I sidestepped them and stopped in front of Luca, touching his elbow lightly. “Luca.”
He turned with a smile. “Yes?”
“I’m going to take off. Come with me?”
He nodded, but as his eyes drifted over my face, the smile slipped. What did he see? Was it written all over me that I was still reeling from that kiss?
