Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

I smirk and shake my head in disbelief. “You ended us last night, Jules. Don’t put this back on me.”

He drops his head and stares at the floor.

“Can you get out, please?” I ask. “I want to get ready.”

He turns and walks out, and I watch the door close behind him.

Regret curls deep in my stomach

That feels unexpectedly final.

Chapter Sixteen

Julian

I sit at the table and rub my fingers over my forehead, back and forth.

Stop her from going out. Go in there and apologize.

I’m hot, I feel sick.

Make her stay.

I close my eyes and blow out a heavy breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. An unfamiliar feeling of regret swirls in my

chest.

If she wants to go out with someone else, that’s her business. I don’t do monogamy. So what’s with this sick fucking feeling I get from even thinking about her going out with another man?

Stop it.

I get up to pour myself a scotch, and then I sit back at the table and take a sip. Maybe she won’t go.

Her words run through my mind on repeat. “I don’t need protecting. Like your children, I want compassion and understanding.”

I give my children compassion. I give up my whole fucking life for my children. Who is she to throw the blame on me when she knows nothing about our situation?

I take a large gulp of my scotch when she walks out with her overnight bag in her arms.

Tell her not to go.

I press my lips together so that I don’t beg her out loud. I sip my scotch again with my leg bouncing underneath the table.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you’re drinking scotch at 10:30 a.m.” She stands and watches me for a moment. “I didn’t mean it to sound like I think you’re a bad father.” She hesitates. “That’s not how I meant it.”

“That’s how it sounded.”

She takes a seat at the table opposite me. “Julian.”

I stare at my glass on the table.

“Will you look at me?”

I drag my eyes up to hers.