I paused, hoping he’d say something—anything—to let me know he understood, but he was silent, staring at me as if I were a stranger. “I understand that it’s a lot to take in. And I understand if you can’t…forgive me or look at me right now. These next few days, weeks, and months are going to be rough on us all. But I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
He lifted his chin slightly, a challenge. “Can I go live with Dad?”
I swallowed, fighting back tears. “If that’s what you want, we—”
“It is.”
I stood. This was not about me. This was about him. I couldn’t cry. He didn’t deserve to see me cry. His feelings were valid.
“Okay, then. I’ll, um, I’ll see what I can do.” I turned before the first tear fell and walked from the room with a slow, confident pace.
I thought no one could ever hurt me like Peter had.
I’d been wrong.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PETER
“Gin and tonic.” I slapped a hand on the bar, debit card pinned between two fingers when the bartender finally turned to face me. Might as well use up the rest of the money before Ainsley stole that too.
“Sure thing, hon,” she said, flicking her dark, curly hair over her shoulder so I had a clear view of the low-cut shirt she was wearing.
I waited for the familiar tingle of excitement to spread through my core, but to my surprise, nothing happened. I felt nothing at all.
She slid the drink to me, taking the card and handing me a receipt to sign moments later. When I turned away from the bar, a woman with long, red hair stood behind me. I did a double take at the sight of her, convinced, if only for a second, that it was Ainsley standing there.
To my disappointment, the girl was years younger than my wife, and the red of her hair was too bright—too fake. I hated her in an instant, as if she’d come there just to torment me. Just to remind me Ainsley was gone.
I shoved past her, my arm colliding with her shoulder with extra force.
“Hey, excuse you!” she shouted, spinning around as if ready to start a fight.
Her fire amused me.
“Excuse me.” I smiled at her, my anger fading slightly. “Sorry, I was distracted. Are you okay?”
She simmered down, dropping to her flat feet from off her tiptoes. “Um, yeah. I am. It seemed like you did that on purpose or something. Sorry for yelling at you. It’s been a weird day.”
“For me, too,” I admitted, then shot a look at the bartender behind her. “Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?”
“Oh, um.” She eyed the folded cash in her hand, then shoved it back into her pocket. “What the hell. Why not?”
“Why not?” I repeated, stepping forward. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a…” She scanned the row of alcohol behind the bartender, who appeared to only be half listening as she slid two bottles of beer toward the man next to us. “Manhattan, please. With Basil Hayden’s and extra cherry juice.”
The bartender set to work and the woman turned to me, smacking her gum with confidence. “You gotta name?”
“Last I checked it’s Peter.”
Last I checked? I fought back a grimace.
“Nikki,” she said, reaching for the bowl of nuts in the center of the bar and taking a handful. I watched the man next to us eyeing her and stepped closer. He glanced at me, then back at her, and turned away.
“You come here often, Nikki?” I asked, my voice raised slightly as the song changed to something more up-tempo. I leaned in closer to hear her reply.
“Nah, I’m in town for a funeral.”
I jerked my head back in shock at her answer. “No kidding?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Eh, it wasn’t that big of a loss.” She blew a bubble and popped it loudly, outstretching her hand to take the drink as the bartender held it out. “Thanks.”
I paid for her drink and then we moved through the crowd quickly, finding an empty booth in the far corner of the room. She sat down first, not expecting or allowing me to sit next to her. I slid onto the opposite bench.
“So, what do you do, Peter?”
“I’m an architect.”
That earned me a look of approval. One I was very familiar with. She grinned, leaning in to take a sip of her drink. When the drink touched her lips, she spit it out, covering her mouth as her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.
“Oh my god, that’s awful,” she said, her face wrinkled with disgust. She fanned her tongue with her hands, laughing in spite of herself. “I’m so sorry. I thought I would seem sophisticated ordering a drink I heard my ex order once. But…” She fought to keep herself from gagging. “Oh, it’s so bad. Why didn’t anybody tell me it was so bad?”