Page 43 of If He Hadn't Cheated
My hands shake. I need to walk away. I should.
Instead, I push the door open. The sound of laughter and music crashes into me. The place looks exactly the same. Dim lights. Polished wood.
My replacement looks up, a smile flashing across his face. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again.”
“Neither did I,” I say. My voice sounds too calm.
He nods toward the bottles lined on the back wall. “What’ll it be?”
I stare at them. Amber. Clear. Gold. A hundred ways to forget.
My fingers twitch on the counter. One drink. That’s all it would take. One sip to quiet everything.
Then I hear a voice behind me.
“Don’t.”
I freeze.
Knox. He’s standing at the entrance, his eyes are locked on me, cold and sharp and full of something I can’t name.
I swallow. “How did you find me?”
“You left your tablet on your desk. I tracked your phone when you didn’t answer.”
“I’m fine.”
He steps closer, voice low. “No, you’re not.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I’ve been exactly where you’re standing.”
I turn to face him fully. “And what did you do?”
He exhales, the sound rough. “I walked away.”
I laugh softly, but it breaks halfway out. “You make it sound easy.”
“It wasn’t.”
His eyes soften, but his voice stays steady. “You think this place will fix you for a night, but it won’t. It will only take from you again.”
The bartender clears his throat. “You two know each other?”
Knox doesn’t look away from me. “She’s with me.”
Something in the way he says it silences the entire room.
He extends his hand. “Come on.”
I stare at it for a long moment. My chest feels tight. My throat burns.
Finally, I reach for him. His fingers close around mine, firm and warm, pulling me away from the bar. We step into the street again, the air cold and damp. He doesn’t let go until we’re standing under the awning of a closed café across the street.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Shaming for not being strong enough eating me up from the inside.
“Don’t be.”
