“Huh? Oh, this?” She gestures at her fancy robe with the feathered trim while her other hand clings to an oversized margarita. “I remembered I have free will.”
The clattering slot machines echo from one room over asflashing lights dance across her glistening skin. She must be wearing some kind of body glitter. Her dark hair cascades down her back in soft waves, and her lips are painted some deep red color I’d love to see wrapped around my dick.
Shit.
I can’t think of her like that anymore. She’s not mine, no matter how much I wish things were different.
She pinches a piece of paper between her index and middle fingers and holds it out to me as she brings the drink to her lips. “He’s gone,” she says flippantly.
I recognize the shoddy handwriting immediately.
Angie,
I can’t do this.
Tyler
“What the fuck!”
She gives me a sidelong glance. “I know, right? It’s like the world’s shittiest haiku ever written on honeymoon suite paper.”
I read it again. “Not enough syllables.”
She snorts into her drink, a self-deprecating smile on her perfect fucking face. “You’re right. Clearly, I wasn’t worth the effort.”
I flag down the bartender and order myself a whiskey on ice, sliding into the seat next to her. “So. What now?”
“Now I channel my dead best friend and get wasted on ridiculous margaritas in my bridal robe. After that, I’m going to blow half of our joint account on blackjack and watch somemale strippers who may or may not be from Australia—the advertisement was unclear.”
“I have a better idea.”
“What’s that?”
“We get wasted together, I’ll text my asshole best friend about what a piece of shit he is, and I’ll take you back to your room to sleep it off.”
She waggles her brows suggestively. “As I recall, the last time you took me to my bedroom, we didn’t do much sleeping.”
The memory wrenches me back in time to five years ago, when I met the woman of my dreams and let her slip through my fingers. I worshipped her from the minute that apartment door swung open. She was tall and curvy, and I couldn’t look away. When her palm slid into mine, it rewired my brain chemistry, and I knew I would never be the same.
I crept out of her bed while she was fast asleep, and I’ve regretted that decision ever since. I already cared way too much—more than any reasonable person should after having known her for all of two days.
I still care an unreasonable amount, but a lifetime has passed since then, and we’re not the same people we were. As much as I want it to bemyring on her finger, it’s not.
“Where’s your man of honor?” I ask. “Shouldn’t he be here with you?”
“He couldn’t make it. His husband has pneumonia, so Micah decided to stay back in Willow Valley.” She sighs. “It was probably a sign.”
My back teeth grind together as anger bubbles up inside me. It was Tyler’s idea to have a small ceremony in Vegas, and he left her here to fend for herself. Angie deserves so much better than this bullshit. She’s always been ignorant of his faults. I was, too, but as I watched them together, I witnessedthe subtle changes in her over time—changes brought on by the man who claimed to love her.
As my drink is set in front of me, I slide my card across the bar. “Start a tab.” I jerk my head toward Angie. “She’s with me.”
“She already has a tab open, sir.”
“Close it.”
“It’s on our joint account.” Angie runs her delicate finger around the rim of her glass before she takes it between her lips, licking off the salty garnish.
I force myself to look away, shifting uncomfortably as blood rushes to my groin.
