Page 35 of All I Need

“You want to play this game?”

“No game, Gary. You’re the one who decided to sleep with another woman for six months—while your ring was on my finger, might I remind you.” I pull the ring out of my pocket and look at it before tossing it to him. It hits him in the chest and he catches it before it falls to the floor.

“It was fake anyway,” he says, lip curling up in a sneer like I give a shit.

“Figures. Everything you stand for is.”

He throws back the rest of his whiskey, his lips spreading out from the sharp taste of straight liquor. I’m sure he was choking every single sip down, chest puffing out. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove. He never liked the taste of hard liquor but he had it in his head that real men drink it. Meanwhile, he’d probably be happier drinking a pina colada, something full of fake sweetness. Looks like neither of us were our true selves around each other. “Probably why I had to go looking for something not so… natural.” He smirks.

“Enough!” Walker interjects. His voice comes out so loudly that it makes me jump.

He glances at Walker then stares at me. “This isn’t over.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Walker growls, wrapping an arm around my stomach from behind and tugging me to him, my back to his front. The look on Gary’s face is priceless but it doesn’t do anything to stop my body from wanting to bury in even closer to Walker. The fact that I’m standing in front of the man I was supposed to marry and am responding so strongly to another isn’t lost on me. But for the life of me, I can’t find it in me to care, either. “It was over before we walked through your door today, Gary,” he practically spits out his name and I want to giggle but stifle it.

Gary prowls away, brushing a shoulder against Walker’s as he passes. The gesture makes both of us laugh, me so hard I bend over forward. “He’s such a jackass,” I wheeze.

He snorts. “He really is.”

Within ten minutes, we have the furniture loaded and strapped into the bed of Walker’s pickup and we’re on the road heading home.

I don’t even look in my rearview mirror this time.

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