Shit, New York was almost a week ago, yet it feels like a lifetime ago. Then I was planning a future with Eva, and now I’ve lost her.
Unrestrained heartbreak hurts like a mother…I should call my sponsor or Silas. Or get Quint to drag my ass to the car.
My drink is placed in front of me. “Name’s Aaron. Give me a holler if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.” Trembling fingers wrap around the glass of amber liquid.
Poison, that’s what it is and a big part of the appeal. I can’t resist the temptation to fill this cold and dark void within me. Drown my sorrow—truer words were never spoken.
The loss of Eva is a wound that will never heal. Drugs or alcohol or whatever only numbs the pain for a little while.
I nudge the glass away, resting my hands flat against the wooden surface.
It’s just a drink. Just one. It doesn’t have to hurt. Just enough to take the edge off. No more.
And it isn’t like I can’t handle it. I’ve always been able to hold my liquor. Sure, sometimes I’ve overindulged but never to excessive amounts. Could one drink undo a year of being clean?
Eva.
She may be gone. It isn’t like I have to have my shit together for her.
Fuck no. This isn’t about her. I didn’t get clean for her. I did it for me. For a chance at a better life. A chance to live and actually feel. Experience the highs and the lows because that’s what being alive is all about.
And I want to live.
I want Eva.
“You good here?” The bartender dips his chin to the untouched drink before staring at me.
“Yup. All good, Aaron.”
“I gotta ask, are you Jared Grange? Bassist for Trojan?” He beams like he won the lottery when I nod. “Cool. Love your music. Miss the band.”
He waits a beat, expecting or hoping I’ll respond. I just hold his gaze, silent.
“All right then.” Nodding and smiling, he saunters to a group on the other side of the bar.
A hand slaps me hard on the back and I jump, swiveling in the chair. Miguel sidles up next to me. He’s no better than I am, but suddenly all my shortcomings pummel my body like a bag of bricks.
I’m a worthless street kid, only good for trouble or a good fuck or a number one hit. But that’s about it. Not good enough to have the heart of the woman I love.
His smile is phony. ”She told you to leave too, I see. Eva doesn’t want you anymore than she wants me.”
My gut roils. That may be true, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of telling me so. ”How would you know what she wants?”
“I just saw her.” His gaze holds a cold glint.
I huff. “Bullshit. Just like you made me believe she was still your wife. Did you really think you’d get away with another lie? As if I wouldn’t ask her.”
“She will be my wife again. We have a long history, and I know her better than you ever will. What was it? Two, three years tops that you knew each other. Me,”—he rests his hand flat against his chest as if humbled or honored—”I’ve known her almost her entire life. I’ve always been there for her. You were kids. Your first love. You didn’t know anything about life and love. What makes you think you’d still be together today if there’d been no car crash?”
My jaw hardens and teeth clench, and I study the guy with intentional malice, looking for any signs of the same from him.
“I just know we would be.” I won’t give him any inkling of my latest conversation with Eva, what was discussed once he left us at the pool.
All that aside, she’s my soulmate. The half of me that keeps me alive and keeps me believing in all the good in this world.
“What do you want, Miguel?”
“You should know she will come back to Barcelona with me. She’s done with you.”
Did she tell him that? Does he know what a piece of shit I am? Was he listening to our conversation and then spoke with her afterward?
He doesn’t need nor is he looking for a response from me to continue his diatribe about how great he is and that Eva belongs with him. Fucker.
“She was curious. That’s all this little visit to LA was. And now she knows her life with me is better than anything you can offer her.”
My fingers curl around the glass, lifting it to my mouth. It’s the drink or I hit the bastard.
“And in case I was too polite or not clear enough for you earlier,”—he lays his hand on my shoulder and leans in—”stay the hell away from her. You come near her again and I’ll share all the gory details of your past with her.”
“Nice try, but you can’t keep me away.”
I press the glass to my lips, the burn of the alcohol singeing my nostrils. I pull it away—no longer sure drinking is my only option.
With his phone out, he thrusts the screen in front of me. Pictures from my past—some from online, and others I have no clue how he got his hands on—but needless to say, all filthy. Stuff I wouldn’t want anyone to see, least of all Eva.
Sure, they aren’t anything new. We’d talked about my past in New York, but I didn’t need him rubbing her face in it. And especially not now, not after telling her about Bianca.
That alone has her torn up and questioning me. If she doesn’t already hate me, all she needs to see is this smut and she sure will.
“If you have Eva as you say you do, why are you threatening me? You should be confident.”
“You’re the problem.” He shoves my shoulder, spilling the drink over my hand and onto the bar.
“Shit.” I wipe my wet hand with a napkin and then the surface, all the time clenching my jaw. My teeth ache.
I push back from the bar, done with this conversation and this jerk. A second longer with him and I’ll lose it. He follows suit, mirroring my every move.
“And if I have to take her back home against her will, I’ll do it to save her from herself.” He screws up his smug face and balls his fists.
“Are you fucking kidding?” My growl is low, deliberately, to ensure no one but him can hear me. “You will not do anything against her will.”
Aside from the bartender, no one has approached me, but I’ve not gone unnoticed. I’ve been famous long enough to know when I’ve been recognized.
People are watching, some even weighing their options, waiting for the chance to make contact.
“As if I’d listen to anything you had to say.”
“I’ll make you listen.”
He straightens the lapels of his jacket in a weak attempt at dominance, and I can’t resist another verbal jab, to knock him down another peg.
“And if that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll be the one to leak to the press how you embezzled from her family’s company.”
He whips his head up to look at me, something close to fear and anger invading his gaze. I lean in closer, lower my voice further. More for my reputation than his.
“I’ll tell all about how you didn’t retire. You were fired. I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re a liar and a cheat.”
Without warning, he lunges and pushes my shoulder once again, this time much harder, and I stumble backward, crashing into a table.
Gasps and murmurs erupt around us as I fall to the floor, hitting my head on the edge of a chair. Little black dots dance in my vision.