Page 3 of One Night with the Werewolf
“Maybe,” Jason answers with an awkward laugh.
Everyone at the table falls quiet. It’s obvious what’s going on, and I’m just the only one who’s not willing to admit it.
“Are you having sex with that woman?” I ask, dreading what the answer will be.
“Yeah.”
He just says it like it’s no big deal. Tears rush to my eyes as silence follows. My face is getting hotter and hotter, until I think a volcano might be about to go off inside me.
“I didn’t think I raised such a cruel man,” Roscoe says at last, his eyes traveling to me. “Cheating on his woman in broad daylight.”
I shake my head. I don’t want him to tear down Jason right now. I just want this to be over.
“Enjoy your… whatever you’re doing,” I finally say. “Don’t bother coming. Not that you were.” Then I tack on, “We’re over, Jason.”
Jason sighs, then the line goes dead.
He didn’t even have a parting word for me.
Nobody speaks as I pick up the phone and slide it back into my purse. The rock music playing in the background of Elroy’s continues as if nothing happened.
“This is bullshit,” Roscoe snarls, getting to his feet. “I need to talk some sense into that idiot boy.”
I grab his sleeve purely on instinct. He halts and glances down at me with his brows raised.
“Sorry,” I say, letting him go. “Just that it won’t do any good. You know what he’s like. You catch him with his hand in the cookie jar, and he’s going to pretend like the jar was never even there in the first place.”
Roscoe hisses between his teeth. Probably because he knows I’m right. Confronting Jason will do no good, and neither of us has any clue where he is anyway.
“I know what you need,” Kim says, standing up and waving an arm. “Barkeep! Another round for the birthday girl. She just dumped her boyfriend.”
I feel like I’m the one who got dumped, but I don’t correct her.
“Oh, damn, really?” The hot bartender from earlier hastily makes a pink concoction, even though I’m more of a beer girl, and brings it over to the table. “On the house. Sorry about the boyfriend.”
I give her a grateful smile and take the cocktail with fresh rosemary on top, which does smell really good.
Talking resumes at the table as I drink.
“What an asshole,” Kimmy says, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe the sheer disrespect.”
“I’ve never really liked him,” admits Becks. “Sorry, Em.”
I force a smile and nod, but inside, my world is collapsing.
Jason was my person. My everything. Or so I thought.
My friends go on to talk about all the things they never liked about Jason—which might have been nice to hear sooner in my relationship. Meanwhile, Roscoe hasn’t spoken in his seat beside me. But as I stare down at the table with tears in my eyes, a hand brushes over my shoulder in a soothing circle.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a low, scratchy voice. I know he was a smoker for a while, and you can hear it in his raspy tone. “My son is a fucking moron.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He sighs and releases me. “I want to sayforget about him, but it’s not that easy. You two were together a long time.”
“Four years.”
We were fresh out of college when we met at a party. I feel like my first drunken hookup with him, when he came within two minutes, should have been a red flag.
