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My jaw dropped. He was such a dick sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time, actually. “I’m here for the reading of the stupid will, that’s all. After that, tomorrow, noontime, I’m driving home.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re in the will? She left you something?”

“Yup,” I said.

He nodded. “I see.” He looked down at the table. “Can I sit?”

“One minute you’re all, ‘What are you doing in my town still?’ The next you’re, ‘Can I join you?’ You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Right.” He gave me a tight smile. “Sorry.” He started to walk away from the table.

“Oh, get back here,” I growled. “Sit down.”

He turned back to me. Hesitated. Then came back to the table, pulled out a chair and sat.

I gestured. “Have some wings.”

“This ranch sauce or blue cheese?”

“Come on, you know the answer to that,” I said, smiling at him.

“Fucking omegas,” he said. “Always want the intense, sharp cheese. Always want sensation.” He dipped his wing in the blue cheese.

“Omegas, plural?” I said.

“Opal, too.” He glanced at the manuscript. “You’re still reading it.”

“Oh, I’m in the middle of the ten pages of excuses for why she didn’t abort your child,” I muttered.

Damian’s expression went pained.

I guess that would hurt his feelings. Good.

“Can I see it?” he said.

“I thought you didn’t want to read it.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “I said I hadn’t read it.”

“She says you didn’t love her, but that you just felt tender towards her because she allowed herself to be a ‘receptacle for your darkness.’” I air-quoted it.

He seized the manuscript. He looked over the page I was reading, grimaced, and then paged further backwards in the thing.

My waiter came over, and Damian ordered a drink, just beer. I asked for more liquor.

Damian set the manuscript down, shaking his head. “I don’t think I want to read this.”

“Is it true?” I said, feeling tired.

“Is what true?” he said. “That I bruised her?”

“That you were having sex with her regularly while I was having the bond sickness?”

“I was trying to find some way to end things with you. I could see what it was doing to you. I tried to spend more time away from you, but that only made the sickness worse. If I went to you, though, I didn’t really give you relief. You were a shell of yourself. It was my fault—”

“None of this explains why you started fucking her,” I interrupted dryly.

Damian opened his mouth to answer. But before he could say anything, the waiter was back with our drinks.