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Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pull up the most recent missed call and press down on the number, holding it to my ear as it rings. I watch her glance at the screen, then check the dining area as if she’s afraid of someone hearing her conversation, and then she picks up.
“Hello?” Her voice is soft, breathy, and it makes my dick jump behind the zipper of my jeans, remembering how she’d flush and her throat would grow raspy when I was making her come.
“What the fuck is your game here, Fiona?” I snap, skipping all formalities as my blood boils. “You fuck me, get me to spill my secrets, then spend the next few weeks practically stalking me, and now you’re on a date?”
Furrowing her eyebrows, she scans the dining area once more, confusion lacing her delicate features. “Where are you right now?”
“The better question is, where is your date? I’d love to stop by your table and meet the fucker.”
“If you don’t want to be with me, what does it matter who I see in my spare time?”
My lips part around words I shouldn’t say—that the only thing I want is to be with her—but they die in my throat, wilting away with the reminder of how she ended things. How she looked at me after I put my secrets on display, how she let me walk away again, just to come back and try to act like things are okay.
Inhaling a deep breath, I will the thoughts away, reminding myself that I need to get home to Riley. “You’re right, Fiona. It doesn’t matter. Have a nice dinner.”
I hang up before she replies, anger still ebbing through me, an electric current not so easily shaken, and I slide to the side out of view, watching and wishing I could go back to the spring. Be honest about her father’s affair and Riley’s attack, and maybe she wouldn’t have given up so quickly.
With a sigh, I start to turn away from the window, feeling like a creep standing outside and just staring at her, when a flash of color catches my eye, moving into my frame of vision.
A sinking feeling settles deep in my gut as I press my nose against the glass, trying to figure out if my eyes are playing tricks on me, or if I really do recognize the figure as he bends down, kissing her cheek.
My blood boils, so hot I can feel it percolating beneath my skin, every muscle in my body tensing and coiling.
I’m shaking as I scrape my fingernails down the glass, the screeching sound piercing my ears, flashes of blood and sobs and death marring my vision.
Standing there, watching them, I die and go straight to Hell.
