Page 108 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

Not because I'm not happy for one of my best friends. I sure as shit am.

But because watching my best friends fall in love, watching them choose to risk everything for someone else, forces me to face an uncomfortable truth…

I could have had this.In fact, I did, long ago.

All these years, with Amanda and Matt. It had never been about them choosing each other over me.

It was about me choosing self-protection over vulnerability. “Strength” over “weakness.” About me never letting anyone close enough to hurt me over having something real.

Until Ariana.

"That’s…" I clear my throat. "Congratulations, man."

"Thanks." He studies me, eyes narrowing. "Though,watching you try to be happy for me while clearly wanting to punch something is surprisingly entertaining."

"I am happy for you."

"I know." His voice softens. "But maybe it’s time you were happy for yourself too?"

I need air. Now.

"I should?—"

"Run?" He grins. "Yeah, probably. Just… maybe consider running in the right direction this time?"

I don’t respond. Can’t. Because the walls are closing in, and if I don’t move, I might fucking shatter.

I escape to La Famiglia’s courtyard, letting the cool drizzle of Seattle’s spring rain cut through the heat in my veins. The doves that Ariana donated are still cooing from the corners of the small garden.

But the moment I inhale deep, steadying breaths, a voice slithers from the shadows.

"Well, well." Will’s smirk is razor-sharp. "If it isn’t the great Connor Reeves."

My jaw flexes, a slow burn igniting in my chest. "Walk away, Will."

"Or what?" He steps closer, the streetlight casting shadows in his eyes. "You’ll write another little ballad about it? Something about stealing another man’s trash?"

Everything goes deadly quiet.

"Say that again." My voice is a blade, sharp, deliberate.

His smile widens, cruel and smug. "You heard me. I just didn’t take you for the kind of man who settles for another man’s leftovers."

Before he can take his next breath, I slam him against the brick wall so hard the impact rattles through my bones.

I lean in, my voice low, lethal. "Listen to me, you pathetic little parasite. My wife is not leftovers. She is not scraps. Andshe sure as hell isn’t something you ever get to speak about again."

Will snorts, but there’s a flicker of fear behind it. "Your wife? Please. She’s just a glorified crisis manager who can’t even?—"

I tighten my grip, cutting him off with the pressure of my forearm. "Who can’t what?" I whisper, my breath scorching against his cheek. "Handle a snake? Because from where I’m standing, she crushed you like the spineless coward you are."

His throat bobs, his bravado cracking like cheap glass. "I left her."

I press harder. "No. You ran. Because she was too much for you. Too beautiful. Too smart. Too strong. Too goddamn good for a waste of space like you."

His hands grip my wrist, weak and desperate. "You don’t know what you’re talking about!"

"I know exactly what I’m talking about. And so do you. That’s why you can’t even look me in the eye. You knew she was bigger, better than that trashcan you call a PR firm. You knew you couldn’t keep up with her anymore. That you really never could.” I apply more pressure on his neck. "Tell me, Will, how’s that wellness empire of yours working out? The one you’re building by stealing from organizations like her father’s kidney support group?"

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