Because all day, every day, I wondered what she was doing—and who she was doing it with. Why did they all go out every Friday night? Who was she seeing from that lower floor?
So here I was. Outside the pub. Looking for Lucia Hart like a goddamn stalker through the window.
My eyes narrowed as I scanned the crowd until—there. Allison appeared, raising her glass with some triumphant proclamation. Laughter followed. Lucia threw her head back, clutching her belly as she laughed.
Then Evelyn—fucking Evelyn—sat beside her and kissed her. On the lips. A big, fat, lingering smack.
Lucia turned to hug her—chest to chest. Full-body contact. Her breasts pressing against—
I clenched my jaw.
Someone bumped into me from behind, muttering “weirdo,” but I didn’t look away. Allison slid onto the seat beside her. Evelyn leaned in, whispering something in Lucia’s ear.
Wasn’t that woman married?
Why were they breast buddies?
“Are we going in?” Garrett asked, moving in behind me, voice casual.
“Look at that woman in red and the one in white. Do you think they’re lesbians? Or bisexual?” I muttered, barely blinking.
Lucia patted Evelyn’s cheek with that damn soft smile of hers, then turned to face Allison. My jaw flexed. No more touching. No more lewd affection.
But I stayed rooted to the spot.
“Hard to tell through a dirty window,” Garrett replied.
He didn’t say it, but I heard it anyway.
You’re the dirty one.
My hands curled into fists inside my coat pockets.
I should walk away. I had a life to get back to. I had a presentation on Monday and two investor calls scheduled first thing.
This wasn’t rational.
This wasn’t me.
But she was laughing again. Smiling like she’d never once had to shrink under my cold glares. Like I hadn’t bled her dry with impossible tasks and colder silences.
“You know what?” I murmured. “This was a mistake.”
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “Coming here, or standing out here for ten minutes like a bloke with a restraining order?”
I scowled at him, but he didn’t back down.
I turned back to the window. Lucia was reaching for her drink, face flushed, clearly tipsy. She leaned close to Allison now, whispering something—and the woman laughed so hard she slapped the table.
My stomach turned.
If I went in, I’d only embarrass myself.
If I left, I’d feel like I was running.
“Sir?” Garrett prompted.
“I’m thinking,” I snapped.
