Page 71 of My Last Dance

“Bittersweet! I was going to say bittersweet.”

“Yeah, right,” I dropped sarcastically.

“You didn’t let me finish.” His dark eyes heated. “You never let me finish, that’s the issue. I thought we had a good thing going back then. I thought we were both going to reach our own goals and then we’d be together. You’re the one who—”

“You started dating Brandi!” I burst out. So I guess we weren’t going to slowly wade into the past, this was a full blown dive—or belly flop, more like it—into our history.

His face cracked in confusion. “Who?”

Oh my God. He didn’t even remember her name. “You’re such an asshole, Kappy.”

He reared back like I slapped him. “Don’t call me Kappy.”

“I’m not being mean, that’s your name, dumbass,” I said simply. “Nowthatwas me being mean,” I muttered into my drink.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he accused, irritation etched on his face.

“Using your name on purpose?” I asked dubiously. “Um, yeah, that’s how names work.”

“You two!” the bartender roared. “Settle down!”

“No!” we both snapped.

The bartender yelled at us again, but I didn’t care, I was too busy being mad. Something about Kappy made me revert back to my teen self and I just wanted to scream, stomp on his foot, and slam doors in his face.

A muscle in his cheek fluttered.

“I’m confused, do you thinkIneed to apologize?” I asked.

“Well, I wanted to be with you, you’re the one who turned me down back at school. We could’ve avoided the rest if—”

“Oh my God,” I cut him off, completely flabbergasted. “This is insane.”

“Fine, forget it, who cares about the past,” he muttered.

A pain ricocheted through my chest.I do. I really fucking do.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “We need to get along, Piper,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Why?”

“For the kids.”

“Kids?There’s only one.”

“No, JP counts too.” He tried another sip of the drink and grimaced.

“Baby.” I smirked.

His jaw tightened, but then he forced his own smirk. “I love it when the ladies call me that.”

I ground my back teeth. “I’m done.” Grabbing the stem of my drink, I carefully smoothed off my chair and made my way to an open seat at the bar, smiling graciously at the men to the right of me.

Seconds later, Kappy sat on my other side. He grabbed the bottom of my chair and yanked me closer, making me almost spill my drink. He turned my chair so I was forced to face him, and his large knees encased my own, making a little thrill skitter through my traitorous body.

“You promised to hear me out,” he said in a low voice.

“No, I promised one drink,” I snapped. “As soon as this is gone”—I took another sip—“I’m leaving.” I eyed my glass. “You’ve got about five minutes.”

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