Page 62 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

I'd never see her again.

But I didn't walk away from that handshake.

And I didn't forget her name.

I told myself it was just business.

That keeping the partnership made sense on paper.

But every time Connor mentioned her—I listened harder than I should have.

Walking away from Riley was the worst decision I ever made and I've known it every single day since. I can still see the look on her face when I shut that door.

She didn't cry. Didn't yell. Just stood there in that kitchen like someone had cut the power to everything inside her.

I was twenty-one and thought leaving would hurt less than watching myself ruin her.

The night before the kitchen confrontation.

I walked for hours. I don't remember most of the streets. I remember the bar I didn't go into. I remember the one I did, and three drinks that didn't touch anything.

There was a couple outside a restaurant. Her hand in his back pocket. Both of them laughing at something I'd never hear. Ordinary. Easy. The thing I was sure I'd wreck if I stayed.

I almost called her. Twice. My thumb sat over her name both times.

That was the problem. She kept trying to make it work. Every time I pulled back, she reached further. She'd have forgiven me for anything. She'd have forgiven me slow, over years, and watched herself get smaller to doit.

I couldn't be the reason for that.

So I decided to give her something she couldn't forgive.

I didn't plan the words. I needed a door that only locked fromher side.

The place smelled like garlic and butter. Dinner on the stove. Atowel slung over her shoulder like I'd interrupted something normal instead ofdetonating it.

She smiled when she saw me. That's the part that still guts me.

“You're early,” she said.

Like seeing me was still a good thing, even though I'd already decided to break her heart.

I didn't sit down or touch her. Didn't even say hello.

I just stood there like a coward with the ending already written.

“I slept with someone else.”

No buildup or warning. Dropped it into the middle of the room like it had no weight at all.

Nothing came at me. Not even a tear.

The spoon slipped out of her hand and hit the counter with asoft clatter that sounded too small for something that big.

“What?”

One word. Pure shock, nothing else in it yet.

I gave her nothing. No reason. No explanation. Because if I stayed to talk, I'd stay to beg. And begging meant hope, and hope meant staying, and I was certain I'd find some slow way to ruin her if I did.