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Chapter Twenty-Three
Brittany
Panicking, I scan the gallery, searching for anyone I might know I can use as an excuse to get out of talking to Troy. Coming up empty, I silently curse Romeo for leaving me, and it doesn't help that the Andersons just excused themselves to go downstairs.
Frustrated and cornered, I turn toward Troy, now several yards away and approaching me at a fast clip as he maneuvers through the crowd.
"Here you are," Troy says, leaning in to hug me.
I jump back, thankful for quick reflexes, when his arms slide off my shoulders.
"Come on, Britt. Could you please be nice? I've said I'm sorry at least twenty times. When are you going to forgive me?"
"Never. And I shouldn't even be talking to you. You don't deserve it."
"Look. I know I made a huge mistake. Lacey wasn't worth losing you. I love you, and I swear I'll never let anyone get between us again."
I study Troy's face and want to throw up. How could I have missed the signs? Visually, he's such a lousy liar, with the way he blinks excessively and constantly looks away. Not to mention how he bites at the corner of his lip like he's doing right now. And his voice. It's always higher pitched than usual when he's lying. Fuck. It's so blatant I must be blind. Or, more realistically, I was comfortable with my life and subconsciously chose to ignore it, pretending we—or he—didn't have a problem.
I scoff at my stupidity. This is a mistake I won't make again.
"Hey, earth to Britt. I don't know what you're thinking, but could you come back to the present? I said I won't ever cheat again. So, can you please give me another chance?"
"I don't care what you do as long as it has nothing to do with me. We're done. Now, you'll have to excuse me. I need to go downstairs." I take several steps, then get yanked backward when Troy grabs my arm.
"Don't turn away from me. I'm asking you for another chance."
Troy's voice is tight, and I can see a glint of anger in his eyes when I turn to face him. I try to free my arm, but he won't let go.
I jump when something touches the small of my back. Then, my nose fills with the familiar scent of leather and spice. Stunned, my gaze dips to the floor.That's impossible. There's no way Dane's here.
"I strongly suggest you let go of my girlfriend's arm." The deep voice comes from behind me. A hand slides to my hip.
My arm is abruptly released as I look over my shoulder, my pulse racing and my heart bursting with joy. "You're here," I whisper.
"I'm here." Dane leans forward and places a soft kiss on my temple.
Forcing myself to break our connection, I turn back to Troy. He's frozen in place, with his brow furrowed and looking confused.
"Who the fuck are you?" he says, snapping out of his daze. His eyes are like ice as he glares at Dane.
"I told you. I'm Britt's boyfriend." Dane's voice is sharp and cold, the tone menacing.
Troy takes a step backward. "Britt, who the fuck is this guy?"
"He's my boyfriend. I thought he cleared that up." I swivel in Dane's arms, turning my back on Troy. I can feel a warmth everywhere Dane touches me, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Troy no longer matters, his presence becoming nonexistent, my irritation and frustration replaced by a sweet euphoria like warm honey dripping across my skin.
"Fuck you. Fuck you both!" Troy snarls.
Dane starts to pull away from me, and I shake my head to stop him. "He's a weasel and not even close to being worth it."
Feeling like a revolving door, I turn around and see Troy glare at me, his eyes like daggers. I can't help but snicker at his red face and heaving chest, oddly thinking for a moment that if his eyes truly were blades of steel, I'd be dead. And probably ten times over at this point.
I sigh, so over Troy and his crap. "Troy, you need to leave me alone. I already told you—we're done. There's no second chance."
"Fine. You'll be sorry." He storms off, but not before muttering, "Bitch," under his breath.
Dane pulls away from me to go after Troy. I grab his arm and stop him, preferring to have Dane crush me to his chest than witness weasel bloodshed on the gallery floor.
