***
Arthur slips behind the bar and lifts a bottle of amber liquor from under the counter.
"Isn't that stealing?" I ask.
"Perk of volunteering to close up the venue." He uncorks the bottle and lines up four glasses, flashing a grin. "Relax, I'm kidding. I brought this from my own stash."
Knox extends a hand before Arthur can pour. "Sorry, I realize we've been at the same events for a while, but I don't think we've ever properly met. Knox."
I shake it. "Beth."
"Mason." The third alpha offers his hand. He’s a wall of a man, but up close, his light brown eyes are surprisingly soft against the dark frame of his hair. As I take his hand, I catch a faint, pleasant scent drifting off the two of them.
"Now that that's sorted—" Arthur pours, slides a glass to each of us, and raises his. "To..." He searches. "Broken hearts?"
Eh. Why not.
"To broken hearts," I say.
The first sip burns warm and smoky. Something behind my sternum loosens.
Mason reaches over the counter and refills his glass.
For a beat, no one talks.
"So," Arthur finally says, looking at me. "Got anyone else we can rope into this little pity after party?"
"Considering I shooed away Luna and Maren, I think we're it."
"Really?" He tries for a smile that doesn't quite land. "And here I thought you came as a package deal."
"Usually, yeah. But I wasn't exactly great company tonight, so I did the merciful thing." I trace a circle on the bar. "Maren's probably elbow-deep in dough by now—baker's hours. I've got a spare key to her place, so I told her to go."
Mason turns to me and raises an eyebrow.
"What? I'm staying in her guest room tonight," I say, which makes him turn back to his drink.
"And Luna?" Knox asks.
"I had to convince her a solo walk home after this catastrophe of an evening would do me wonders. She ended up relenting after about an hour." I shrug. "To be fair, the most dangerous thing in Lakeview after dark is Mrs. Patterson's Pomeranian, and I'm pretty sure it's asleep by now."
"Thank god for that," Knox says, a little too quickly.
I glance at him. "Sounds like there's a story there."
"One I'd rather save for another time," Knox says, taking a sip.
"Amen," Mason murmurs into his glass.
A quiet falls. Arthur tops off his drink and rolls the glass between his palms.
"Well, I guess we'll have to make do with our little committee here then," he says. "On the bright side, you get to hang out with the three best men who caused a scene at their best friend's engagement party—"
"And you get to hang out with 'Poor Beth,'" I finish. "I can already hear tomorrow's gossip. The maid of honor whose ex-fiancé stole the best men's omega."
Arthur stops rolling his glass. Knox drops his eyes to the bar. Mason's jaw ticks.
Right.Theiromega. I keep framing this as my personal tragedy and forgetting they're standing right here in the wreckage with me. I do feel bad for them, too, because I get it. It's hard enough getting dumped without everyone in a thirty-mile radius constantly reminding you. When Grant left, I had exactly eight hours before the firsthow are you holding up, sweetie?landed. Not that I don't appreciate people caring, but the line between concern and pity is razor-thin. And since tonight happened, I'm pretty sure I'm on for a whole new cycle of sympathy.
