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“We just broke up three months ago.”
“I know. Funny how that works, huh? But you should know that. Congratulations on the engagement.” I slap him on the shoulder, which he involuntarily puts a hand on to ease the pain. “When it’s love, you just know. Am I right?”
His eyes narrow. “You do.”
Before he can say anything, the woman who I’m assuming is Cheyenne shimmies next to him. “Hey, honey. Can I get some money for the bar?”
He lets out a sigh. “It’s an open bar, babe.”
“I know. Everyone’s in line. I know it’s open. Which is why I need money.”
I try to keep my snicker under my breath, but I can’t, which of course James sees as she shoots me a glare.
“Open bar means it’s free,” he says.
“Oh!” she says excitedly. “I’m going to go get a Sex on the Beach!”
I laugh as she all but skips away. “Oh, to be young again. I remember my first drink…”
“Shut up!” James barks. “It’s an honest mistake.”
I hold my hands up in innocence, though I’m trying not to laugh. “Apologies, my man. I just don’t know how you go from a woman like Andi, who is possibly the smartest woman I’ve ever met to…well…”
“You should talk,” James comes back. “She went from successful financial adviser to what? A fucking bartender? A never-going-to-happen singer? Now there’s the downgrade.”
“Oh James,” I say, patting his shoulder again. He winces when I make contact, even though it’s not even half as hard as it was last time. “I’m not saying there are downgrades. There are just choices that were made.”
“Choices?”
“Yes. Choices. You choose to leave Andi. You didn’t want to marry her—which I still don’t get because I’d walk her down the aisle tomorrow if she’d have me—only to propose to a woman who is only with you for your money. I mean, that’s what I’m figuring.”
“It’s not for my money,” he says defiantly.
“Well, then, do tell brother,” I say, feigning interest. “Please tell me what happened that made it so we are here today.”
His eyes narrow. “I’m not telling you.”
I laugh. “Of course you won’t. Coming so close, but not finishing the story.” I suck my teeth in mock sympathy. “Some men do struggle with that. Not finishing. Leaving people unsatisfied. You should work on that.”
Andi hasn’t said any of that, but judging by the redness in his face that makes him look like Heatmiser, I’m pretty sure I hit the nail on the head.
“Fuck you,” he says.
“Nah. You’re not my type. Apparently not Andi’s either. Turns out she likes them…well…tall. And able to satisfy.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“How so?” I’m dying to hear this.
“Andi hates sex,” he says with the confidence only a mediocre white man can display. “She’s a fucking prude who barely puts out. I had to beg to have sex three days a week. I only stayed with her because I didn’t have anything better. Then I did. End of story. And now you have my sloppy seconds while I have a fit twenty-two-year-old who thinks I walk on water.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I just smile.
“Why are you smiling?” he asks. “You’re happy that you’re getting my throwaway?”
Now I laugh. “Oh, James…” I take a step closer to him so I can whisper this in his ear. “You just fucked up.”
I lean away, nodding behind him to where Andi is standing. She heard every word. I watched her walk up. I watched her stop to listen. And I watched as he dug his final grave.
