I look back at Richard. He still hasn’t acknowledged what I said about what he did at that wedding—how he disrespected me so profoundly.
He sees me finally and makes apshawsound. “Really? You’re jealous? I told you. That was a misunderstanding.”
Jealous. Heat rushes through me. I should have lost it on him then, but I didn’t. So now’s the next best time. I don’t yell when I speak next, but I don’t bother trying to protect his dignity anymore by keeping my voice down either.
“You kept saying it was a misunderstanding. So I tried to convince myself of that. I mean, I don’t know why I bothered. My parents tried to convince me of that too. But it wasn’t, was it? You wouldn’t even hold my hand on the dance floor, let alone dance with me.”
“I can’t help it that you’re so attached, Bryony. That you needed to mark your territory at that wedding. Or why you felt you had to have a nervous breakdown to get my attention.”
That heat grows into a fiery inferno. “Richard,” I say, my voice quiet with a calm fury. “You’re out of your mind. Are you forgetting the part where I broke up with you? You called me enough times, so I know you got it.”
I feel the tiniest bit of guilt that I never answered any of those calls. But I knew he’d just be freaking out.
But all my pity vanishes when he smirks and waves his glass again.
“Seriously, the help isterriblearound here.”
Suddenly a shadow appears at my side. A big shadow. And the glass pops out of his hand.
“My apologies, sir,” comes the gravelly voice attached to the hand now engulfing the glass. “I have a policy that I don’t let my servers look after assholes.”
Relief floods me. Gratitude too. And something else I can’t name.
Richard’s eyes are wide as he looks Mac up and down. He has to crane his neck to see the top of him beside me. Then he registers that he’s been insulted.
“What the fuck? You can’t talk to me like that.”
“He can, but he shouldn’t have to,” I say. I slide out of my side of the booth. I should leave it alone. But I don’t know that he will if I don’t close this for good. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you remember me telling you it was over?”
Richard sputters. “You didn’t mean it.”
I slide my hand into Mac’s. It’s huge and rough and takes mine without a microsecond of hesitation. “I don’t want to be with you, Richard. Is that clear enough? I never want to see your face again.”
I have to give Richard some credit. He doesn’t even consider Mac’s size before turning bright red and jumping out of the booth. Mac takes a step back to give him space to leave, tucking me slightly behind him.
“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Richard asks, incredulous. “You’re trying to forget me, so you’re fucking a redneck. Was that why you came all the way out here? Because no one else would say yes back home?”
Mac seems to grow even bigger in a matter of seconds. “I’d advise you to think very carefully about whether you want to continue talking right now.”
“This is none of your fucking business!” Richard says.
My heart beats hard in my chest, my eyes threatening to well with tears at what he just said. He always knew how to hurt me. I’ll give him that.
But I blink them away. I refuse to let him see. “Richard,” I say calmly. “You need to leave.”
Richard sneers but doesn’t move.
“You heard her,” Mac says. “Get the fuck out of my bar.”
“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Richard sneers. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“God dammit!” I say, this close to a yell, before Mac can say anything.
It’s one thing for him to be an ass. It’s another for him to provoke Mac andignoreme, like he’s always done. Like my parents have always done, as if my opinion—my life—doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Well, I’m done being nice now. I can’t do it anymore. “I told you very clearly that I don’t want to be with you. I don’t know how much clearer I have to make it.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, bitch?—”