Page 9 of Delayed Penalty

I still haven’t responded to his other text from the other day, asking to go get drinks because I’m honestly not sure how to respond. On one hand, in no way, shape, or form should I say yes. I have a fiancé whohatesHarris more than anything, and I couldn’t tell you why. Hell, as soon as Harris and I broke up, Peter was there so there really shouldn’t be any reason for him to hate him. Not only that, butIshould also hate him. I should hate Harris for breaking my heart. I should hate Harris for breaking up with me just so he could be single when he joined the NHL and fuck all the puck bunnies he wanted.

But I don’t hate him, and that’s always been the biggest problem. I’ve tried to hate him but never could. So, I ended up with a man who doesn’t even want to be with me, but won’t let me leave. The first time I mentioned leaving, he got angry. The second time, he proposed in front of both of our families at dinner.

I’ll never forget the day I told him I didn’t want to go through with it, that I wanted to take a break. The look in his eyes turned cold, his eyes empty as he told me he’d make sure my reputation as a teacher was ruined before it even began. I believed him,especially since I was a student teacher at the school his mother was in charge of.

He basically told me just to deal with it and my parents seemed to agree. They never take my side in anything, the only person I have is Kelly. She hates Peter, and honestly, sort of hates our parents for it too.

Me too, sis.

“Hi, Avery,” Peter says as he pulls out the chair next to me, not giving me a kiss or anything, just sits down in the spot next to me like we’re casual friends, not two people who are supposed to be planning a wedding together. “I’m sure you remember Mr. Richards, and this is his beautiful daughter, Sofia.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. This whole situation sucks, being here for my birthday dinner instead of a dive bar in a pair of Converse like I wanted, only to find out it’s a fucking work meeting where he wants to compliment his client’s gorgeous daughter and act like I’m his friend.

This is bullshit.

“Hello, Ms. Walston,” Mr. Richards says, while his daughter just smiles and takes the seat across from Peter.

“Hi,” I muster out as I grab my glass of wine and take a healthy first sip, earning me a side eye I choose to ignore.

“Thank you so much for planning this dinner, I’m looking forward to working together,” Mr. Richards says with a smile before turning to his daughter. “Sofia is going to be taking the lead this time, though, so it’ll be the two of you who will be working together.”

Ugh, if I wasn’t jealous of her beauty before, I am now. Not because she’s done anything wrong—not just because I can see the way my fiancé is looking at her, but because I know damn well he’s imagining what she’d look like naked and on her back.

Our waitress comes over, and I couldn’t be more thankful she’s breaking up this little moment than if I’d been naked running through a parade.

“Hello, everyone, my name is Cindy and I’ll be your server tonight,” she says, and Peter’s eyes immediately find her and do a once over of her body, not bothering to be subtle in the least. The man has never had class, but I, at least, thought he’d fake it around a client. Especially when it’s fucking evident that Mr. Richard’s daughter is interested in him based on the way she’s staring at him.

“Hello, Cindy,” Mr. Richards says politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We have been looking forward to this dinner.”

Speak for yourself, bucko.

“Are we here tonight celebrating anything, or are we just out for the evening?”

Here we go. This will make the evening.

I can’t help the little smile that plays on my lips as I look over at Peter, hopeful that this evening might at least have a bright spot. But that’s all deflated the second he shakes his head.

“Nope, we are just here tonight celebrating a new partnership,” Peter says, raising his glass to his new partner, and I feel all the blood drain from my face, my jaw slack as the two of them clink their little glasses while his daughter stares heart eyed at my fiancé.

The worst part?

I’m realizing I don’t actually give a fuck that she wants him. Hell, she canhavehim. I don’t need to be here at a dinner meeting, one he’s made sure I’m never involved with, instead of what I want to be doing to celebrate my birthday.

I shouldn’t be here.

More importantly, I don’twantto be here.

I look down at the table where my hand rests, practically begging for some of his attention and all I can see is this ring hegot me he thought would look “classy” and “sophisticated”, but just like the wine, I think it’s fucking pretentious as hell.

It’s at this moment I realize I don’t recognize myself anymore. There’s not a chance in hell I would have let a man run my life like this, so why am I allowing it now? How did I even end up with a man like Peter? There’s nothing about him that’s my type—except that he has a dick. Only, he went a step further and just became a total dick in general, and that, my friends, is a turn off. He just sort of showed up and never left after Harris broke my heart, and I’ll be honest… we just got comfortable.

Then, he got his promotion and he became insufferable. He gained this ego that’s so inflated I’m surprised his feet don’t float off the ground, and with that the manipulation and anger started. And now, I haven’t been able to get myself out of this situation, probably to do with this anchor on my finger.

But I’m done letting this stop me tonight. I want to havefun.

Standing up, I look down at Peter who is in full conversation with his two guests and wait until he notices I’m not sitting perfectly as he expects, his gaze slowly turning to meet mine.

“I’m leaving,” I say confidently, not missing the annoyance in his eyes at my words but at this point I’m not letting this stop me. “I’ll let you get back to your meeting and I’ll just see you back at home.”

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