Rob blew out air, standing up and sliding out of the booth.
He began to pace.
“I was too young. Way too young.”
“So was she.”
“Cruz, I asked her to abort it.”
I saw red. All. Fucking. Red. I couldn’t see anything but the blood I wanted to draw from that bastard at how he’d just reduced Bear—a fucking amazing kid he’d had nothing to do with shaping—to ‘it’.
“It has a name now. A personality, too. Likes. Dislikes. It was growing inside her. Keeping it was her right.”
“If I’d stayed, I would never have had a chance to be something. I wanted more for myself.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re giving me your side of the story after being so self-sacrificing and stoic for so long. I’m really starting to root for you on this hero’s journey of self-discovery,” I said sarcastically. “You planning on backpacking through Europe to find yourself next?”
“She decided for both of us. It wasn’t fair.” Rob yanked at his hair, shaking his head.
“Fair flew out the window the moment you turned your back on her, you bastard.”
Rob reached for his drink, emptying the glass in one swig and slamming it against the table, sneering.
He looked up, his eyes empty and cold.
“You’re still in love with her.”
And you’re still not.
If he loved her, he never would have acted the way he had. Or like this.
“Just remember, Cruz. Even if you fucked her, she is, and always will be, my leftovers. I was there first. I tasted her first. I—”
I didn’t let him finish the sentence.
I tackled him to the floor, throwing the first punch, which landed square on his nose. He got up and stumbled backward, steadying himself by grabbing the edge of another booth and someone’s wig with it.
The person slapped Rob’s hand away. Rob smiled at me, his teeth bloodied with the popped vessels I probably damaged with my fist.
Blake Shelton sang that God gave him someone, and I was about to hand the Almighty another son of His in the shape of Robert Gussman.
My ex-best friend hurled his entire weight at me, crouching down to try to get me in the stomach. But I was faster, not to mention sober, and sidestepped, making him land against our empty booth in a heap of limbs.
He groaned in pain, and I heard the music lower and people behind us running to break up the fight.
I grabbed the hem of his collar, lifting him up and tugging at him until his eyes found mine.
“Don’t.”
I punched his face.
“You.”
I punched his stomach.
“Dare.”
I kicked him in the balls.
“Call her leftovers.”
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Rob’s entire face was bloodied, but he still managed to throw a hook straight into my eye socket when I wasn’t expecting it. I tripped a few steps, Wyatt’s arms catching me before I bounced back and went for Robert’s full destruction.
Tim and Kyle pulled Robert away, breaking us up.
“Holy shit, Cruz. What the fuck?!” Wyatt boomed, pushing me violently toward the door, his expression roaring, his lips still glittering with a stranger’s watermelon lip gloss.
Rob, Kyle, and Tim stayed behind. We spilled out to the humid summer night, and I blew out air, my body buzzing with violence.
“He’s a son of a—gun.”
“He was one of your best friends.” Wyatt pointed at the door to the club.
The two bouncers outside looked at us like we were guests on Jerry Springer—when the baby daddy who impregnated five women in a span of three days just walked in to hear his paternity results.
“What’s happening to you, brother? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you got cozy with the other Turner girl. I didn’t say shit because I figured you’d drop her after the cruise, but Jesus Christ, this is getting to be too much.”
“Too much what?” I challenged him, arching a brow.
“Too much trouble for someone like her.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re marrying her sister.”
“Her sister’s different. Trinity’s harmless. A church mouse.”
“Well, Tennessee is all venom and honey. Dangerous but irresistible. She’s better than Trinity. Better than all of them.”
“In the sack, maybe. But—”
I grabbed the hem of his shirt, no longer giving any damn about my precious reputation.
I pressed my nose against his. “Don’t. This is the last time you talk about her like that, got it? Next time, your face will be the shape of my fist.”
“Wow. Okay.” He pushed me away, taking a few steps back. He turned around and kicked a trash can, pouring its contents onto the sidewalk. “Goddammit!”
He paced back and forth.
Robert, Kyle, and Tim trickled out of the club, sweaty and disoriented.
Rob looked at me with murder in his eyes, pointing a finger to my face. “I’m not getting into a car with this psycho.”
“Better get a head start if you want to make it home by morning. West’s that direction, in case your drunk ass needs a map.” I spun the keys on my index finger, starting toward Wyatt’s car.
They all trailed behind me, Robert included. Wyatt was the first to catch my step.
“Is it serious?” he asked.
I knew exactly what he meant.
I weighed the pros of telling him the truth. There was no way at least some of this evening wasn’t going to make its way to Mrs. Underwood, who’d make sure to tell everyone else in Fairhope.
No point in pretending otherwise.
“Yeah.”
“Does Mom know?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
I rubbed my chin. “If Tennessee’s okay with it. Either way, we’ll wait until after your wedding. I don’t want your bride to die of a heart attack.”
“I appreciate it. Finding a third one would be a hassle.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You still have most of your hair and a respectable chunk of inheritance. You’ll be all right. Just don’t tell anyone before Tennessee and I are ready to.”
“You got it, bro.”
There was silence for a few moments. I wondered if the other guys had heard us. I wasn’t sure if I wanted them to know or not.
“You kissed someone else,” I pointed out to Wyatt.
He sighed. “Baby bro, not all relationships are the same. Trinity and I have a very good idea of what we want from each other. I doubt she expects faithfulness from me. She just wants to marry into money and stop working.”
“Good,” I said. “Because she is a pretty crappy nurse.”
“Nessy is a good waitress. Kyle says Jerry told him she gets the best tips.”
“She’s talented.”
“I hope she makes you happy.”
“Wyatt?”
“Whaddup?”
“Tell Trinity what happened tonight. Because if you don’t, I will.”
The next day was a Saturday, and my day off. A real blessing, considering I couldn’t show up at the clinic looking like someone punched the daylights out of me.