31. CHRIS
31
CHRIS
T he whisky burned going down, but it didn’t do jack shit. I still felt like a mess. Alcohol usually helped but this was like those virgin mocktails people wasted their money on.
What was the point of drinking if there wasn’t alcohol in it?
What was the point of drinking, for that matter, if it didn’t fix anything in my fucked-up life?
Hey, I was willing to try my best to see if it would change.
The bar was upscale, dimly lit, the kind of place where people pretended their problems were far away, even if they were sitting right next to them.
Yep, I’d become one of those guys.
Nice. Chris Blackwood, the fuckup, drinking because why the hell not?
I nursed my drink, the glass cold in my hand. It was a nice contrast to the fire raging inside me. Everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers—my job, my relationship, the one thing that had started to make sense, the one person who made me think I could be different.
And I’d pushed her away.
I kept telling myself it was for her own good. She deserved better than what I could give her. I was doing this for her, not for me. I had to believe that, because otherwise, I had nothing to hold onto.
Still, the guilt, the fucking regret… it all gnawed at me. My constant companion these days. I glanced at the bartender, nodding for another drink. I needed something stronger. I needed to feel something other than the emptiness.
The bartender slid another glass across the counter, and I downed it, grimacing at the bite.
It didn’t help.
Fuck!
My thoughts kept drifting back to Bella—her eyes, the tears I’d put there, the way she’d looked at me, desperate for something I couldn’t give her. I hated myself for it. I’d watched her break, and I’d let it happen. Hell, I’d caused it.
My skin was too tight, like I couldn’t get comfortable in my own damn body. I tapped my fingers on the bar, clenching my jaw, eyes flicking toward the marina as I took another drink.
God, I wished I could turn it all off—just stop feeling, stop thinking. I wanted to forget. But the more I tried, the more I realized there was no forgetting Bella.
I don’t know why I looked out the window again, but I did, and that’s when I saw her.
Bella.
My heart stopped, and I stared, the glass frozen halfway to my lips. She was walking along the marina, heading straight for Eli’s yacht. He waited on the dock for her, his smile broad. My stomach twisted violently, and I slammed my glass down.
I watched as Eli greeted her, leaning in, his lips brushing her cheek, standing too fucking close.
Bella was mine . What the fuck did he think he was doing?
But she wasn’t mine, was she? I’d made damn sure of that. Still… what was she even doing there? With Eli Moretti, of all people?
My grip tightened around the glass until my knuckles turned white, and I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. This wasn’t new. They were too comfortable around each other.
The jealousy and betrayal crashed over me, knocking the wind out of me. I had to blink, to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.
My head started hurting, and whatever buzz the alcohol might have given me was gone in a blink.
Adrenaline would do that to you.
Bella was with Eli. My rival. The guy who’d been trying to undermine me for years. Had she really moved on already? And not just moved on, but with him. It was like a knife to the chest, twisting deeper with every second.
What the fuck was she doing? After everything we’d been through, after everything I’d done to try and protect her, she was there with him. It felt like she was twisting the knife on purpose, and I didn’t know if I could take it. All my worst fears, all my insecurities came rushing to the surface—fears that I was never good enough, that I’d always be the one left behind. I thought of my parents, of all the times I’d been abandoned, and the familiar ache of rejection settled in my chest all over again.
A surge of anger blinded me, but underneath it, there was raw pain. I’d thought Bella was different. I’d thought she understood me, wanted me for who I was. Hell, I’d told her things I’d never told anyone. But now she was there with Eli, looking comfortable, like she belonged. Like maybe she’d never really been mine to begin with. I felt like a goddamn fool.
Fuck this.
Something inside me snapped. I threw some cash down, knowing it more than covered the bill, and I marched out toward the yacht. My hands were balled into fists and adrenaline pulsed through me, my entire body on edge, every muscle tight.
I didn’t think as I stormed the yacht. I narrowed my eyes, scanning the deck to see her.
Eli spotted me first, and his face lit up with that smug smile that made me want to put my fist through his teeth. “What are you doing here, Blackwood?” he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were locked on Bella. “Bella,” I said, my voice cold. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
She hesitated, glancing at Eli, who looked all too happy to step between us, but she eventually nodded. She stepped forward, and Eli smirked, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Why don’t you find your own date, Blackwood?”
Bella shot him a look. “It’s fine, Eli. I’ll be right back.”
Eli stared at her. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I won’t be a minute,” she said.
She followed me onto the marina deck, and I turned away from Eli, ignoring his smug grin.
We stepped away, and I faced Bella. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to create distance. Bella looked confused, her eyes searching my face, and a part of me wanted to take her into my arms, to hold her against me and protect her from the world.
From that son of a bitch who was still watching.
But I couldn’t let myself soften. I couldn’t let her in.
“What’s going on, Chris?” she asked, her voice cautious when I didn’t say anything.
I leaned back, keeping my voice flat, detached. “This isn’t working, Bella. It’s better if we end things here. You have one day to get your stuff and get off my yacht. I never want to see you again.”
Her face paled. “Are you firing me? The show is almost over—”
“I don’t give a shit. I’ll do the rest that needs to be done. I want you gone.”
Her voice was soft when she spoke again. “Where is this coming from?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, my words like ice before I glanced at Eli again. She followed my gaze. “I’m done. You can do whatever the hell you want—with Eli, with anyone. I don’t care.” I forced the words out, each one more bitter than the last.
Every cold sentence felt like another piece of myself breaking, but I had to do this. The sight of her with Eli had triggered every defense mechanism I had. If she’d moved on, I needed to make it easy for her to leave.
I kept my expression cold, my eyes locked on hers, even as I saw her struggle to keep it together. I wanted to take it all back, to pull her close, to tell her the truth—that I was scared, that I didn’t know how to do this, that I needed her.
I wouldn’t let myself.
I turned and walked away, leaving her there. As soon as I was gone, the weight of what I’d done crashed down on me. The cold front I’d put up started to crumble, and all the pain I’d been holding back hit me like a tidal wave.
I walked back toward the bar, each step feeling heavier than the last, the pain settling in my chest like a stone.