Chapter 3
Maddy
Idon’t wait for Ellie’s reaction. I bolt out of the kitchen so hard and fast that I nearly trip over my own feet.
Fuck you, Wes. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
I storm out into the parking lot and make it as far as the first row of cars before I hear him.
“Mads!” He calls out, as if using the nickname he gave me will smooth things over.
I keep walking, arms clamped tight, clutching my phone, which I fully intend to use to schedule an Uber. Or throw at his face. I don’t know which right now.
“Maddy, come on.” Wes’s shoes pound the pavement behind me, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trying all that hard to catch up to me. He’s always two beats behind.
Unless the thing he wants is standing in front of him with her panties around her ankles.
“Maddy, c’mon, wait up.”
I do not wait. But the parking lot ends in a little drop to a circular drive, and when I swing around the side of a planter, he’s already blocked my path. Apparently, he finally kicked it into high gear.
He reaches out and grabs my elbow. Not roughly, but enough to stop me. “Jesus, would you listen? It’s not what you think—”
I jerk away from him, knowing that hand was on her. “Don’t touch me,” I choke out, my voice wobbling.
His eyes are glassy and bloodshot. “I—Maddy, listen. I got really wasted, okay? I didn’t even know where I was… I thought she was you—”
“Save it.” I try to sidestep him but he gets in the way, his grip coming down on my wrist this time. The same hands that earlier today had squeezed my knee in the car, had patted my thigh, had told me everything was going to work out.
His touch makes me want to hurl. “Let go,” I demand.
He sighs, tilting his head. “Come on. It’s not like I planned it. You know I’d never hurt you. I just got horny. You know I get like that when I drink. You gotta believe me, Mads.”
My jaw drops at the pure audacity. “You were fucking her, Wes. On a table. At our friend’s wedding. What is there to explain?”
He makes a face, somewhere between regret and exasperation. “Yeah, okay… But… But you… fuck, you’ve been so weird lately. I was just trying to feel better.”
The sentence sits there, ridiculous and awful, in the air between us.
I feel every cell in my body go cold and then hot again, a cycle of humiliation and rage as the truth settles into my body. “You cheated. With some girl whose name you probably don’t even remember. And you’re blaming me?”
“Hey,” he says, voice suddenly sharp. “Don’t get dramatic.
I said I was sorry. And it’s not like you haven’t been checked out on me for months.
” He sniffs, adjusting his shirt. “I mean, I know things aren’t perfect.
But this—” He gestures at my face, at my tears, at all of me.
“This isn’t helping. You gotta get over your damn sob fest all the time! ”
I have an out-of-body moment where I imagine decking him. Like, really hauling off and slapping the taste out of his mouth.
But I have no desire to spend the night in jail.
“You actually think I should feel sorry for you?”
He frowns. “I think we could talk about it. When you’ve calmed down.” He glances back at the venue. “We shouldn’t make a scene, Mads. We don’t want to be the people who embarrass Lance and Elizabeth on their big day.”
“You’re the one who…” My voice trails off as I realize it’s useless. He’s not going to understand where I’m coming from, especially not in this state.
I step away from him then, and I don’t know if I want to scream or cry, but my body makes the choice for me. I lean against a nearby car, chest heaving with these loud body-wracking hiccups that I can’t stop.
He softens immediately. “Hey. Just breathe, okay?” he asks, stepping close again.
I let him, which is its own kind of hell. The part of me that remembers how sweet he can be sometimes is still hoping there’s a good version of this story.
But, deep down, I know there isn’t.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand, smearing the makeup as I stand up straight to face him again. “I think I’d rather sleep in a dumpster tonight than talk to you another second.”
He scowls. “So that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Throw away two years because of one stupid mistake?”
I look him dead in the eye. “I think you threw it away for both of us.”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
And the worst part is that I desperately want him to say something to fix it.
To make it hurt less, to offer an explanation or a joke or a memory that makes the last two years mean something.
But nope, he just stands there, looking a little bit annoyed, a little bit drunk, and a lot like the stranger I didn’t want to admit he’d become.
“We’re done.” I push off the car and start walking. He follows, but only as far as the edge of the drive.
“Mads!” His voice cracks, then slides back into that same old whine. “You’re overreacting! You always do this! Come on, can’t we just—”
I walk fast, my calves aching from heels that are way too high. But I keep going anyway, because if I stop, I might just stand there forever, staring at his stupid face, waiting for a better ending.
I’m too angry to slow down to call an Uber. I keep walking until I make it to some fancy hotel ten blocks away. It’s not the best choice, given that most people here make more in a month than I do in a year.
“Good riddance,” I mumble under my breath, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar. I’m pretty sure I look like a clown who lost a fight. My hair is a mess from the windy walk over, my makeup is smeared, and this coral dress has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever worn.
“Rough night?” the bartender stops in front of me, tilting her head.
“You could say that.” I try to smile. “I just caught my boyfriend screwing another woman at a wedding. So, yeah. Probably not my best night.”
She makes a disgusted face, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Fuck him,” she says. “Let me pour you something strong on the house.”
I laugh, but it sounds pitiful. “Thanks.” I watch as she makes something with way too much liquor, and then sloshes the blue mixture toward me. “What is it?”
She grins. “The cure for a shitty night.”
“Good enough for me.” I pick it up and take a long draw, the sour-burn warming my stomach.
Before I know it, I’m staring into the bottom of my glass and trying to count the number of times I’ve let myself be convinced that things would work out if I just tried harder.
Fuck me. Actually, no, fuck Wes.
“Can I have another? Happy to pay for this one,” I say, catching the bartender’s eye. She gives me a thumbs up, and then goes back to focusing on another customer.
“You look sad,” a deep voice drawls, and I whip my head around, not having noticed the guy sitting on the barstool beside me.
“I am sad.” I openly gawk at the could-be Calvin Klein model, because at this point, I have nothing left to lose.
He shrugs. “Isn’t everyone?”
I cock a brow at him, just as a new drink is slid my way. “That’s depressing.” I take a sip through the straw, my nose crinkling at the taste.
He laughs at my reaction to the drink. “Sadie pours a mean drink, huh?”
I nod while I check him out more thoroughly. Chestnut hair, parted on the side and perfect. Large but very straight masculine nose. And the most gorgeous green eyes that seem to look right through me.
And I can’t help but stare.
He offers his hand. “Beck.”
“Maddy…” I narrow my gaze at his strong fingers. “Strong hands.”
He smirks, dropping. “I’d love to show you just how strong.”
My jaw drops, and I let out the most embarrassing giggle. “Oh my god, that was so cheesy. Please tell me that’s not a line you use to get women.”
“Nope.” His grin is immediate and wide. “But I’ve never had a woman comment on my hands before. I dig it.”
I feel a spark ignite in my core, and I immediately push it down. “Fair enough. How was your night?” I ask, and realize I don’t care about the answer, but I want to keep talking to him.
I just want to see his mouth move.
He lifts his glass. “Mediocre scotch, dry chicken, and a table full of people who talked about crypto. So, basically your typical business meeting.”
I snort into my drink, nearly choking. “Why crypto? Are you a tech guy?” I survey the designer black suit he has on, unsure of how to read him.
All I see is… rich.
He leans in, elbows on the bar. “They tried to get me to buy a timeshare in an imaginary building. But no, I’m not a tech guy.” He leans back, his eyes doing a quick sweep over me.
And I’m immediately insecure.
“Sorry for the, uh, mess.” I gesture at my face. “It’s been a day.”
Beck’s gaze lingers, but in a way that’s almost warm, as if he just finds me interesting. “It looks good on you, actually,” he says, his gaze softening.
That makes me weirdly self-conscious, so I look down at the bar. “I think I’m allergic to weddings,” I stupidly sputter. “Or maybe just to happy endings. I don’t know.”
He taps the edge of my glass with his. “Happy endings are overrated. I prefer a good plot twist.”
I laugh, and it comes out almost normal. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
He shrugs. “Try me.”
I don’t, of course. Because I am not going to dump my broken heart on a stranger, no matter how spectacular his jawline is. So instead, I change the subject. “You want to play a game?”
He perks up. “Great avoidant tactic, Maddy, but okay.”
I point at the nearest table. “Okay, I’ll bet you five dollars you can’t guess which couple at that table is cheating.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “The blonde in the blue dress is fucking the guy two seats down, but she’s here with the one next to her. He keeps checking her phone when she’s not looking.”
I turn to see if he’s right, and sure enough, the three are practically a soap opera.
I can’t hide my surprise. “That was disturbingly fast.”
He smirks. “I notice patterns.”
“Is that what you do? For a living?”
He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand. “Something like that.”
“You must be a detective.”