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I didn’t belong here. With him.
This wasn’t my life, my world, my problem. He wasn’t mine. He belonged to the pain and to the booze.
“Fuck you too.” Shaking the beer off my hand, I shook my hair back. I was trembling and I wanted to cry, but I wasn’t going to do that in front of him. “Get your shit together,” I said. “And then call me or don’t call me. I don’t really care.”
Which was a lie. A complete lie. I did care. I cared so much that it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I had been punched in the chest at high speed.
“I’m just fine,” he said. “Go ahead and walk away from me. I don’t want you anyway.”
I realized he had lifted his whiskey glass to safety in his hand before he tossed the table. If that wasn’t the sign of an alcoholic I didn’t know what was.
His words were a direct hit. They shouldn’t be. But he didn’t understand that I almost always struggled with feeling unwanted. In my family. With my peers. And mostly guys. Intellectually, I comprehended it. Emotionally, it hurt. And I was falling in love with him. I truly could love him, with all the parts of me that had nothing to do with my IQ and everything to do with my heart and soul. And for him to say he didn’t want me? It felt like a serious low blow, and he had to know that. My nostrils flared. My vision went blurry from the tears I couldn’t stave off.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be the one who has to put up with you. Maybe I don’t want to be there when you wake up every morning, hungover.”
The barback came over and clapped Cain on the back. “You gotta go, Jordan. You know the drill.”
“I’m leaving,” I told the guy. “He can stay.” I didn’t want that on me—him being tossed out of the bar before he was ready. Besides, I was ready to go. I couldn’t stand there and be forced to acknowledge that I was looking at the first man I loved, and he couldn’t allow himself to love me back. That he loved to hate his life more than he could ever be willing to embrace it.
Unfortunately, Christian came to the table.
“Cain, you’re an asshole.” Christian asked, “Are you okay?”
“Don’t ask my girlfriend if she’s okay,” Cain said, draining the last of his drink.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry to him but not to me?” Cain said. “What the fuck, Sophie? What the actual fuck?”
“All right. You got to go.” Christian reached for his brother’s arm.
Cain swung.
I tried to jump back away from him and his brother. But the floor was slick from the spilled beer and I lost my footing. I went down hard, landing on my hip, and colliding with the overturned table. I wasn’t hurt, just stunned and totally embarrassed. Male arms that did not belong to Cain lifted me off the floor. I turned to see a total stranger looking at me with concern. One of the guys in plaid shorts who had been dancing with Bella’s friends.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice shaky.
But I wasn’t. Because Cain was more invested in punching his brother in the face than he was in making sure I wasn’t hurt. They were circling each other now, both with fists up.
I made a break for the restroom. Inside I found Bella crying and Kennedy swearing profusely as she attempted to wash her shirt off in the bathroom sink. She was standing there in her bra, raging. Bella’s makeup was smeared to shit and she had a wet spot on the front of her romper, where she had presumably blotted out puke. Unfortunately, the majority of it seemed to have blasted Kennedy.
Peeling my cardigan off, I handed it to Kennedy. “Here, just wear this.” I had worn it to Bella’s dismay, who thought it was frumpy. The only upside to any of this was that Kennedy was not wearing a romper. That would have been disastrous. “Just throw your shirt away.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the sweater with shaking fingers. “Can you get us a ride? Clearly, it is time to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Bella blubbered. “I didn’t mean to throw up.”
“Whatever,” Kennedy snapped. “I know. It’s fine. Just fucking gross.”
Bella tried to hug me but she fell into me and we both careened backward into the wall. “Bel, come on. Stand up. Time to go home.” It took everything inside me not to be a bitch. I was so done with this night. My heart was aching and I was so angry at myself for being stupid enough to fall for Cain. I had wanted to believe that he wanted a relationship and that made me an idiot.
“Don’t tell Bradley,” she said, her words slurring. “He’ll leave me.”
“He’s not going to leave you because you drank too much at your bachelorette party. He loves you. But I won’t tell him.” Hopefully, her paranoia was just alcohol-induced.
But then life got that much worse when the door to the restroom swung open and Ali, of all freaking people, walked in with a friend. She took in the scene and rolled her eyes. She maneuvered her way to a mirror, wrinkling her nose at Kennedy, and started putting on lipstick. She caught my eye in the mirror.
