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It’s a clear dismissal, or at least, I take it as one, leaving with as much of my dignity as I can muster.
*****
FROSTY FROGS ISquiet as I slide onto a barstool. It’s not surprising. It’s just gone nine, and Nathan’s place is better known for its evening festivities than breakfast.
It’s on my lips to order a cognac, but I think better of it. I’m out of a job, out of a wife, and in two months, my lease will be up, so I will be out of a place to stay.
I run my hands across my face, my stubble prickly against the palms of my hands while I wait for my beer. I’m aiming to get trashed. It won’t solve anything, but at least I won’t give a fuck for a little while.
I’m on my fifth—sixth?—beer when Nathan comes strolling in, his ever-present leather jacket slung over his shoulder, his helmet under his other arm. I’ve been telling him for years that that bike of his is a death trap.
His brows quirk when he sees me. The last time we spoke was when I blew him off to go away for the weekend with Justine. Fucking or fishing. It seemed like an obvious choice.
He rounds the bar and disappears into the back, but it’s not long before he’s back, leaning on the bar next to me, studying me in silence. I wait him out. It won’t be long before he starts with the questions.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
I smirk. Knew it. “Got fired.” I shrug and take another drink.
“Why?”
“I fucked the boss’ niece.”
He straightens up abruptly. “What?”
“Yep. Fucked the boss’s niece. She was employed as my intern.”
Confessing my sins seems easier the second time. As if talking to Ryan broke the seal.
“Damn.”
I look up at the unfamiliar voice and catch the look one of the bartenders is throwing at me. I don’t recognize him. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. I’m done lying. The truth is like a giant jellyfish that’s wrapped itself around my body, its long tentacles suffocating me, its thousands of microscopic barbed stingers injecting a steady stream of venom into my body.
I’ve lost Bailey. She’ll never forgive me for this. I might have stood a chance before, but now that Justine is pregnant—there’s nothing in this world, fuck, this universe, that will get her to forgive me. The chasm yawning in my heart at that thought is so big and wide that it petrifies me. So, I ignore it for now.
“Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you’re joking.”
Fuck, I’ve forgotten about Nathan for a second, too absorbed in my self-pity. His voice is soft and dangerous. Bailey’s like a sister to him, and his words aren’t asking questions; they’re demanding a certain kind of answer. An answer I would do anything to be able to give him. But it’s too late now. Time to pull up my big boy pants.
“Wish I was, bro.” I shrug, downing my beer and pushing my glass to the nosy bartender—a silent command for another one. “And that’s not all. She’s going to have my baby, so surprise, you’re going to be an uncle.”
I’m tempted to make jazz hands and all, but it feels like too much effort. My shoulders jerk at the sound of a glass smashing. Damn, there goes my glass. At least it was empty. Nathan’s whole body is heaving, his anger giving Phillip a run for its money.
I should let him punch me a time or ten. It would be a win-win for both of us. He’ll get rid of that aggression that throwing a glass couldn’t quite manage, and I’ll get to feel pain. Pain that I deserve and pain that I need to drown out this despair that’s beating through my body.
“Does Bailey know?”
“About the affair, yes. That I’m going to be a father, no. Not yet.”
“Fuck, man! What were you thinking? I don’t understand. Were the two of you having problems? Did you stop loving Bailey?”
“No and no.”
“Then why?”
“It’s simple. I was tempted, and I gave in to it.”
*****
