“That asshole doesn’t deserve anything you give him so fucking freely,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.
“Whoa, Liam. Where is this coming from?” My head swings over my shoulder, but I don’t see anything strange. When I look back, my eyes grow wide as Liam takes my tray from my hands, making me realize he’s already set his down on the rail. What’s happening?
He glances over his shoulder, then turns back quickly. As I stare into his eyes, my breathing starts to pick up. It feels like I’m going to cry, but I don’t even know why. I can guess over who though.
“Let me see,” I snap, trying to move past him again.
Liam looms over me protectively, holding my arm and stopping me from pushing past him, but I try again, struggling to get around him.
“Van,” he whispers, but I shove him hard, moving around him.
“What… Oh fuck…I can’t breathe…”
My breath is caught in my tightening chest as my world feels like it’s crumbling around me.
I should’ve known that Grey wouldn’t stop with only a threat. He’s going to make me hate myself for not choosing him. I’m unprepared and stupid, because seated in my chair is a familiar redhead. The girl who I hate. The one who took my place once before in Grey’s car. The one who’s taken my place again, but this time, she has Grey’s tongue in her mouth.
He’s kissing her. He’s fucking kissing her. But it’s not that—it’s the way he’s doing it, like he can’t get enough. Like he did when he had me against his wall and at his mercy. Like he does in all my dreams.
Liam’s hand weaves through mine, giving it a little tug, letting me know he’s here if I need him.
“He said he’d drag me through hell.”
“That’s not hell, Van. It’s whatever happens after that’s designed to hurt.”
“You underestimate my ability to weather a storm,” I say, looking back at Grey.
Liam’s face dips to mine, the tip of his nose brushing my temple. His bottom teeth graze his top lip, putting that beauty mark on display as he shakes his head.
“Nah, you just live in denial about how much he means to you.”
My head twists to Liam, realizing he’s always known. Of course he has. Spare key to my heart and all means someone else has the master. I look back at the table, watching Grey’s hand weave through her hair at the nape of her neck. That’s the spot he puts his hand on me. My chest heaves as if I’m going to sob, but I clamp my lips shut. Eyes are bouncing between the table and where I stand, waiting for what will happen next. He’s made it a show. A public shaming. This is low, even for Grey.
My eyes drop down, and it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop staring at the chair. That’s my chair. My place. My Grey. No. Not mine. I made that abundantly clear, and Grey’s here to shove my words down my throat or maybe Laura’s.
My feet are moving—I only know because the table is getting closer and closer. Liam stays beside me, unlatching our hands and slinging an arm over my shoulder as he shifts forward. “Hey. Whatever sick little dick-ass game he’s playing…you don’t show him your heart, Van.”
I feel out of body, but Liam anchors me with those sincere and pleading eyes.
“I’m sorry, Liam.”
He looks at me without an answer, but it’s the only thing I can think to say because I know it fucks with his head to see me hurt over Grey. It has to. God, this is all so messed up. But in the middle of all of this, Liam is still thinking about me.
“No sorrys. Never between us.”
“Sit next to me?”
“Always, Van.”
I’ll never grace Grey with my tears because then he’ll know I care, and right now, I want to hate him, even if I don’t. Liam’s right—Grey doesn’t deserve my worry, but he’ll sure as hell get my anger.
Circling around the table, we head toward the opposite side, but I can’t help but glance back at the new lovebirds trying to tongue fuck each other. Where’s the fucking staff. Oh yeah, in his pocket or on their knees for Grey’s attention. Laura moans, and I squeeze my fist so hard that it feels as if my nails prick blood. Jesus. It’s not just a taste of my own medicine. He’s giving me a whole meal.
“Stop playing with your food. It’s poor manners, Grey.”
Caroline’s voice calls from my new side of the table, and my eyes shoot to her smile. No, smile is the wrong word—it’s not happy, more celebratory. That bitch is enjoying this. What evil part did you play in this, Caroline? Did you have her served to him on a silver platter?
Her long dark hair shimmers as her finger twists around a strand. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited a friend? I mean, since Grey doesn’t seem to mind. You’re fine, too, right?”
My palm presses against the table as I lean in closer to her, biting back viciously, “I don’t know what you’ve done. The depths you’ve sunk. But just know, Caroline, it won’t be only Liam that I take from you.”
Her eyes grow colder, all the smugness snuffed out. I laugh, because what did she expect? That I’d default to the Donovan who’s known for being nice and easygoing? That I’d start crying, heartbroken, and run away like she wants? No, I’m out for blood, and anybody’s will do.
Grey pulls away from Laura and looks at her sloppy, smeared lip gloss, handing her a dirty napkin from the table as I adjust into my seat, disgusted and wishing I could run, but knowing I have to stay to face him. Grey turns and locks eyes with me; they give nothing away. And that says everything.
“Donovan. Liam.” Grey’s foggy gaze shifts between us, but the way he sneers at Liam is surprising. “How’s it going?”
The stench of Jack Daniels wafts over the table, and my mouth drops open. He’s drunk. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but it feels like so much more than what I thought. Liam drapes his arm behind my chair, staring Grey down as I glance up to his face to see if he realizes the same thing, before looking back.
“Are you drunk, Grey?”
His eyes laser focus to where Liam’s fingertips are running up and down my arm as we sit in silence. The contempt pouring out of Grey is suffocating. It’s as if Liam’s reassurance pisses him off. He wants me to hurt. Liam said he hadn’t spoken to Grey since I left in the limo, but then why does Grey seem to hate him as much as he hates me?
He lifts his chin, dragging his eyes up as well. “Yes, I am. Whiskey has a way of doing that…remember?” Fuck you.
“Easy,” Liam says sternly, and Grey sits up in his chair like he’s looking for a fight.
“Enough,” I interject. “You haven’t answered your phone all morning. We were worried. But clearly you just needed mouth to mouth. What the fuck is this?”
My hand motions to Laura, who is staring at Grey, but he’s glaring at me.
“What do you care? We’re nothing.”
My chest feels heavy, but I manage the words out. “We’re friends.”
He shrugs, unapologetic, and smirks. “I was busy.”
Laura runs her hand over Grey’s chest and snuggles in close to him, pressing soft kisses to his neck. It makes my stomach turn, but I don’t look away. I wouldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction.