Shaking his head, he swallowed hard. His brain was at war with his heart. Lying was his one thing that would break them apart, and she knew it. She’d done it anyway.
He could, too.
So he walked away before he did something stupid.
Walked right over the flowers he’d given her, crushing the red petals into the pavement. Lauren sobbed behind him, but he didn’t look at her. Didn’t stop.
He couldn’t.
The whole way back to his place, he went over the fight. He replayed it in his head, again and again, until it became scratched and sketchy, like an overplayed record. And he still felt like shit. Still wanted to scream and punch things.
Still wanted to go back and tell her he was sorry.
But what the hell was he sorry for?
He got that she was worried about him. He did. But all along, he’d been very clear that honesty in a relationship was the only thing he required. And she’d ignored that.
He didn’t know how to accept that, or move on.
Or if he even could.
He stopped in front of the bar he’d been in the night he and Lauren first hooked up. The night she called him and begged him to come to her place. She’d been upset, and he could obviously tell something was up. He just hadn’t thought she would lie to him like that. Had never suspected that.
Flexing his jaw, he ripped the door open and stumbled inside. He hadn’t had a drink in almost a week. No time like the present to make up for lost opportunities.
We were worried about you. You were drinking yourself into a grave.
Yeah, well, watch him do exactly that.
Settling down at the bar, he pulled his wallet out of his pants and opened it.
The bartender—a pretty little blonde—came over, interest clearly written all over her face. She was wasting her time. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ll take a double shot of Scotch, and another.” He tossed forty dollars on the bar. “Keep them coming till I look like I don’t need any more.”
She took the money and shoved it in her bra, frowning. “Let me guess. A woman…or a man?”
He didn’t answer.
“Yep.” She shook her head. “Definitely a woman.”
He watched her walk off, hips swinging, and felt nothing. Nothing toward her, anyway. Now, toward Lauren? He felt it all. Grief. Pain. Anger. Betrayal.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out. It was a call. He didn’t answer it. Lydia would have to wait to find out if he was all right. He wasn’t even sure yet.
The bartender slid a glass toward him. “I went right for the triple.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Need anything else?”
His phone buzzed again. “No. I’m fine,” he answered, glancing at his screen. It was a text from Lydia. Of fucking course it was.
Are you okay?
He didn’t want to answer her, but she was his sister. And he couldn’t ignore her. She deserved better.
I’m fine.