Instead of cowering away, I force myself to walk the eight or so feet toward the door as Benji ushers the woman away without so much as glancing back at me.
Stopping at the threshold of the door where Easton leans against the jamb, I turn my head as the landmine goes off.
Boom.
Even if the scenario’s imagined, this pain is the worst I’ve ever felt in my twenty-three years on earth.
His gaze travels from the tip of my sweaty forehead to my throbbing pinched toes before he turns and begins striding away.
“You’re not going to say a word to me?” I call to his back.
Easton stops before whipping his head back in my direction. “Seems like a nice guy. Good for you, Beauty. I’m sure Daddy approves.”
“Go to hell,” I snap with a shaking voice as he reaches Benji, who’s standing outside a closed door, his eyes flicking between us before opening it for Easton. Inside, I catch a flash of the Crownes’ camp, spotting Ben and Lexi before it’s forced shut with Easton and Benji safely on the other side.
Slapping the bathroom door open with my palms, I walk over to the sink before bracing my hands on either side of it. Studying my reflection, I’m surprised to see that, for the most part, I’m still well put together. Though slightly fuzzy around my hairline, my ringlets are still intact, my makeup artfully in place with glam team magic. A go get ‘em gift from Mom in support over her purposeful absence. She decided not to come, refusing to let any of Dad’s leaking past into their present. A decision I will forever respect her for. When we left her, she didn’t at all look concerned. Addison Butler is a much stronger woman than me, but unlike me, she’s confident in her marriage.
Pandemonium erupts in the stadium as I gaze into the mirror while my phone rattles in my pocket.
Dad: Everything okay? I’m three beers in and trying to pace myself. Hurry up.
I shoot a quick text to him before giving my reflection a pep talk.
“Get it together, Butler,” I say, the name a reminder my father survived a similar fate, his strength during that time spurring me on as I mentally prepare myself for the hours to come while still reeling from the one prior.
The door swings open as I run my fingers through a few tangled curls, resigned to complete today’s lie and bury myself in work the second I get back to Austin. It’s when I catch the dark and deadly reflection of Easton Crowne standing behind me that my heart plummets. Refusing to look away, I brace myself for more impact.
“Go to hell?” He repeats, his velvet tone replaced with a mix of irony and feigned amusement.
“It’s only fair. I’ve been there since Arizona, and you sure helped to pave the way.”
“Seems to me you’ve bounced back,” he quips, the change in his tone caustic. It’s then I prepare for war, though I can’t bring myself to fully face him because of the lingering explosion ringing throughout my being.
“Yeah, well. You’ve got refuge in Malibu, right?”
Nothing. Not a single tell. My thirsty eyes drink him in, his reflection like a desert mirage. He looks every bit the man I met and married, yet…different, edgier maybe, his presence more menacing.
With no way to escape it, I face the consequences of my decision to be here head-on.
“Say it,” I bite out, my tone much sharper than intended. The jagged edges of the pain I’ve felt since we unraveled forcing the words out. He wants to hurt me. It’s so evident. “Just say it.”
He’s never been immature when we’ve fought, not really. All he’s ever truly done is allow his emotions to flow as they came. He’s been unyielding in that respect, and he’s not going to do it any differently now to spare me. But there isn’t a trace of the vulnerability I fell for in his eyes. Not a single hint of softness to be found inside the edges of his fury.
“I didn’t plan on being seen. I would never want to dampen this monumental night for you or your family. I don’t want us to hurt each other anymore.”
“Well, there’s a first,” he fronts, “you’re not really good at knowing what you want and keeping firm in your decisions. Then again, you say one thing and do another.”
“I’ve never changed my mind about you. I think about you, us, all the time.”
“Us doesn’t exist anymore. You made it so,” he says, closing in behind me, his warmth unbearably absent. Lifting his hand, he slowly slides his fingers along the number on my spine. My heart lurches against my ribcage, begging to be released. Swallowing, I free myself to love him without abandon in these seconds.