“That’s what I said. No wonder Mia fell asleep on Slater’s couch for an hour.”
The persistent throb stops, and the dead silence filling the room echoes the sound of my brain ticking and overworking a million miles a minute trying to compute what he’s just told me.
“Why was Mia asleep on Slater’s couch?”
“She dropped off some contract that Slater had asked Zoey for.”
I clench my teeth, not wanting to ask the question that began burning the moment he said his name.
“What time was this?”
“I think after midnight,” Troy answers loosely. “After the club.”
Troy stands up removing a Coke from the fridge and opening the can. The fizz bubbles over, and Troy’s quick to place his mouth on the rim to catch the excess soda.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Where was Zoey?” I grit.
He scratches his thick beard staring back with confusion. “She was with Mia. She’d been drinking, so Mia had to drive.”
I can’t take it anymore, grabbing my phone I tell them I may be back. I race home—on foot—arriving to an empty apartment. I rummage through Zoey’s stuff from last night looking for anything, some sort of indication to tell me she’d fucked him. I have no idea what I’m looking for and, of course, I don’t find it. Instead, I find a stack of invoices on the bedside table for the wedding. Quickly reading through each one, I can’t believe the dollar amount I’m seeing.
The rage blinds me, and my inability to think straight is tarnished. My heart’s pumping so fucking loud, and the heat crawling along my skin has me out of breath.
First, she wants to spend the night with Slater after I blatantly told her to stop spending time with him. And then, she goes and spends all my hard-earned money on a fucking wedding that isn’t going to happen. I’m beyond livid. Grabbing my scrubs and a basic bag of stuff, I head back to Isaac’s to kill time until work beckons.
I need time to reevaluate things.
Time to figure out what the hell I want.
And a lying fiancée isn’t one of them.
I knew one thing. I need to see and hear it for myself. That means going to see her at work.
***
Straight after last night’s shift with no sleep and a wired brain, I make my way to her office block to finally confront her. She’s shocked to see me, and equally shocked when I tell her I know about her spending the night with him. There’s panic on her face, but she’s quick to deny that anything happened. Perhaps my guilty conscience has gotten the better of me. She has no idea what I did on Saturday night. And if she did know, would she treat me the exact same and question my fidelity?
I tell her I want a break because I need it. I hated being an insecure person. That boat fucking sailed years ago. That introvert shell with overweight and insecure Drew attached to it, is a thing of the past.
Or is it?
I may be fitter and more intelligent, but my emotions are that of a twenty-four-year-old man lost in a world that seems big and scary. Dad will be rolling over in his gra
ve if he sees how I’ve been acting.
As I walk away, the tears threatened to fall down her beautiful face, her eyes glassing over and her posture’s stooped, rubbing her wrist as she often does when she’s anxious.
It pained me to watch her hurting yet I’m hurting just as much.
And then, as I step outside, I realize I’ve left my cell on her desk.
What I don’t expect is to walk back in and find him touching her. The smile gracing her lips fucking breaks me. And I’m too upset to do anything about it. I know Zoey isn’t a vindictive person or would purposely hurt me, but everything points to that fact right now.
My chest aches, heavy like lead. Turning inward, I find myself withdrawing mentally while walking outside. The cool breeze graces my numb skin, and seconds later, everything switches to anger.
Heart not hurting but hating.