Bright Smile & London Eye (Walker Brothers #2)

16. Chapter Sixteen – Lexie

Lexie

I come to a stop just outside the restaurant I ordered Derek to, suddenly freezing in my tracks.

"Everything alright?" Alan asks me, a worried frown etching deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.

"I'm good," I assure him quickly, rolling my shoulders, squaring my back, and taking another deep breath of the cool evening air. "I'm just nervous, I guess. I'm happy to get this over with."

"You and me both," he grumbles and pulls the door open for me. "Ladies first."

"Such a gentleman." I roll my eyes at him and walk in.

The restaurant isn’t very crowded at this time, so when I look around, it doesn't take me long to find him. After all, I've spent years looking at him; I can absolutely recognize him by the back of his head.

"I'll be at the bar," Alan says gruffly, nodding toward it. "And I'll keep my eyes on you the whole time. If that guy tries anything funny, blink four times very quickly."

"I think you're watching too many spy films." I chuckle but shoot him a grateful smile. "But sure, thank you."

With that, I wade my way through the tables, coming to a stop right opposite Derek.

"Lexie," he says, his voice full of hope and his face breaking into a bright smile.

But I remain cool—surprisingly so. I'm not sure what I’d expected, my heart to beat fast, or to break apart, maybe, but instead, it keeps its usual rhythm. I couldn't care less.

A relieved sigh escapes me at that realization, and I pull out a chair to sit down, keeping my jacket on. After all, I don't intend to stay long.

"Derek," I say coldly, wringing my hands under the table.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he sighs, his eyes darting over my hands and my face as he extends his hand, presumable for me to take it.

I quickly shake my head at him.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't missed me. I know you did," he says.

Oh, the audacity. I force myself to take a deep breath, my muscles tense as I lay my hands on the table, gently tapping my fingertips against the cold wood.

"You know what?" I look him square in the eyes, and he flinches at whatever he sees in mine. "I did—for the first week or so, I did. But you want to know what happened then?"

"What?" He raises an eyebrow at me and crosses his arms in front of his chest, leaning them on the table.

"Then I scrolled through my phone gallery. And every single photo we took, in the whole four years, made me question it. If you were already cheating then, if you were lying to me, if any of the happy memories were true."

"But they are," he insists. I quickly lift my hand, index finger outstretched, to shush him.

"No, no, they weren't. This was a lot more than one mistake. You fucking broke my heart, Derek."

He flinches at my words, but I'm far from done.

"I fucking trusted you, with my whole heart, with my whole fucking life. I moved here for you. I left my whole life behind for you, and it turns out you didn’t want to move here to get closer to your family, but because your mistress lives here. Can you even begin to imagine how deep that betrayal cuts?"

He sinks into himself, like a little boy getting scolded by his mom.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Talking in a measured voice takes more and more out of me. I want to scream at him, want to shout what an asshole he is, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of embarrassing myself.

"I'm trying to get over it," I tell him. "The constant self-doubt and insecurity that you caused. I really am. But whether I do or not, my future does not include you anymore."

I gulp past the knot forming in my throat; admitting that was harder than I thought.

"You fucked us up, Derek. And there's no coming back."

"There's no coming back," he repeats dejectedly, sinking into himself.

When he lifts his gaze to meet my eyes, I see tears shining in his.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Well, it’s not worth much anymore in my book," I admit with a sad smile. “Here.” I pull my ring out of my pocket and slide it towards him across the table. “Take it back.”

He shakes his head at me. "It was always intended for you. Sell it, throw it away, I don't give a fuck. Goddamn, you don't need to eye it like it’s poisonous."

"It might as well be," I mumble, making no attempt to reach for it. "This is a you thing, Derek. I don’t want it. I’m not taking it. And I’m done listening to you."

I look up at him.

"You know, I’d always hoped that if we ever broke up, we’d do so amicably." I give him a sad smile. "I wish I could wish you the best, but honestly, I don’t have it in me."

And with these last words, I get up.

From the corner of my eye, I see Alan getting up too, turning around and hastily drinking the beer he ordered.

"I hope you have the life you deserve. And if you try to contact me in any fucking way from here on out, I’m going to make life hell for you." I step closer, lowering my voice. "Don’t get me wrong—I have no love left for you. But if you do not leave me alone from here on out, I will think of ways to make you leave me alone. And you’re not going to like it."

I can't read his expression, but after getting caught in a battle of stares, he finally looks away, deflates, and nods. A deep sigh escapes him as he admits his defeat.

"Alright," he admits. "I got it. Have a good life, Lexie."

"I will," I assure him and promptly turn around and walk off.

Alan greets me with a smirk as I reach him.

"What a badass babe," he teases, reminding me so much of Bailey.

"Pray tell," he asks once we step into the cool autumn air, "what exactly would be your tactics to make him leave you alone? I’m intrigued."

"Honestly, I don’t know," I admit sheepishly. "But I’m sure if push comes to shove, I can think of enough things. Ringing his doorbell the whole night so he can’t sleep. Throwing eggs at his car. The likes, you know? I spent four years with the man—I know where to push if I need to."

"Damn, you’re scary." Alan bursts into laughter. "Come on, let’s get home."

Later that evening, I’m tossing and turning in bed. The day was so eventful, but my brain can’t seem to calm down.

Surprisingly, it’s not even Derek I’m worried about. The conversation feels like it’s taken a huge weight off my shoulders, like I was finally able to shed the last remnants of my relationship with Derek, similar to a snake shedding its skin.

I’m finally ready for a new beginning. Maybe seeing him again was good for closure after all.

Finally, I sigh and reach for my nightstand to check my phone. Nothing better than some doom-scrolling to become tired.

Well, or not—because the first thing staring at me when I open social media is Jackson’s face.

Jackson’s very handsome, very happy face as he hugs another woman to his side.

I gulp as my eyes instinctively find the caption.

"Jackson and Elena were spotted celebrating the end of wrapping their most recent movie."

Just a party—or something more?

"Fuck," I whisper, my heart fluttering in my chest, blood running cold as I put the phone aside.

That doesn’t have to mean anything, right? It’s just coworkers celebrating the end of working together.

I stare at the dark phone.

Just coworkers. Right?

But then why didn’t he message me like he does most other evenings? Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve heard from him today at all.

With a sigh, I give up. Trying to sleep right now is pointless. Instead, I do what I always do when emotions are running high.

I grab a pint of ice cream from my freezer, plop down on the couch, and put on the TV, for once a movie that Jackson doesn’t star in.

What a fucking day it’s been.