Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Quinton
I knew this was a bad idea from the start.
I knew it.
But there I was at 7:03 PM, walking into The Rusty Nail with four idiots who were all pretending this was about protecting Winnie and not about watching Fitz implode in real time.
The bar smelled of stale beer, fried food, and poor life choices. ESPN blared from six different TVs mounted on the walls. A neon Budweiser sign flickered ominously in the corner, as if it were trying to communicate in Morse code: Turn back. Save yourselves.
“There he is!” Fitz announced, pointing across the room.
Colton Whitcomb sat at a high-top table near the bar, looking exactly as I remembered: all biceps, no brain, and a smile that suggested he’d never experienced a complex thought in his life.
“Fitz!” Colton stood up, grinning. “You made it!”
“Brought some mates,” Fitz said cheerfully. “Hope you don’t mind.”
I waited for Colton to object. To ask why his casual drinks had turned into a group expedition.
Instead, he just shrugged. “The more the merrier, right? I’ll grab another pitcher.”
Gabriel leaned over and whispered, “Is he... actually cool with this?”
“Apparently,” I muttered.
“That’s unsettling,” Nathan added.
Hayden said nothing. He just looked like a man who’d accepted his fate and was already planning his escape route.
We sat down. Colton returned with two pitchers of beer and a basket of wings that looked like they had been sitting under a heat lamp since 2019.
“So,” Colton said, pouring beer into red plastic cups. “All you guys work together?”
“We do,” Gabriel said carefully.
“That’s awesome, man. I work in sales. Medical equipment. It’s pretty sick.”
No one responded.
Colton didn’t notice.
“I just closed this huge deal with a hospital in Bridgeport,” he continued. “Commission’s gonna be insane. Thinking about upgrading my car.”
“You have a car?” Fitz asked politely.
“Oh yeah, man. 2023 Dodge Charger. Blacked out. Custom rims. It’s a beast.”
“Fascinating,” Fitz said, his tone so perfectly neutral it could’ve been sincere. “I’ve always thought the measure of a man’s character was best expressed through his choice of aftermarket automotive accessories.”
Colton beamed. “Right? That’s what I’m saying!”
I took a long drink of my beer.
This was going to be a long night.
For the first twenty minutes, everything was... fine.
Weirdly fine.
We drank. We ate wings that tasted like regret. We watched SportsCenter and pretended to care about baseball statistics.
Colton talked about his gym routine. His macros. His deadlift PR.
Nathan asked a polite question about protein powder.
Hayden stared into the middle distance as if he were contemplating retirement.
Gabriel checked his phone approximately every forty-five seconds.
And I drank. Because what else was I supposed to do?
“—and then I hit 405 on deadlift,” Colton was saying. “New personal record.”
“Remarkable,” Fitz said, taking a sip of his beer. “I can’t imagine the dedication required to lift heavy objects up and then put them down again. Repeatedly. For fun.”
“It’s all about discipline, man.”
“Clearly.”
I caught Fitz’s eye. He gave me the smallest smirk.
Then Fitz said, “So, Colton. How’s Vivian?”
The temperature at the table dropped ten degrees.
Gabriel’s eyes went wide.
Nathan choked on his beer.
Hayden muttered, “Oh no.”
Colton grinned. “She’s great, man. A little high-maintenance, but you know how women are.”
I gripped my beer so hard I thought the plastic might crack.
“High-maintenance?” Fitz repeated, his tone deceptively light.
“Yeah, you know. Always wanting to talk about feelings and stuff. I’m like, babe, can we just watch the game?”
Fitz leaned forward. “Interesting. Because Vivian strikes me as remarkably low-maintenance. Brilliant, actually. Funny. Witty. The kind of woman who doesn’t need constant validation because she’s secure in who she is.”
Colton blinked. “I mean... sure?”
“And beautiful,” Fitz continued, warming to his subject. “Objectively stunning. The kind of beautiful that makes you forget what you were saying mid-sentence. Have you noticed her eyes? They’re this incredible shade of—what would you call it, Quinton?”
“I’m not doing this,” I said.
“Hazel,” Fitz decided. “With flecks of gold when she’s laughing.
And her laugh—God, her laugh is infectious.
The kind that makes everyone around her start laughing too, even if they don’t know what’s funny.
It’s rather like sunshine, if sunshine could be auditory and also make you feel like you’ve just been let in on the world’s best secret. ”
“Fitz,” Gabriel warned.
“And she’s smart,” Fitz barreled on, completely ignoring him.
“Not just book-smart—though she’s that too.
But emotionally intelligent. Perceptive.
She notices things. Remembers things. Like how you take your coffee, or what your favorite movie is, or that you hate olives but you’re too polite to say anything when they show up on your pizza.
She probably knows your mum’s birthday better than you do.
Does she know your mum’s birthday, Colton? ”
“I... what?”
“Your mother’s birthday. Simple question.”
“Uh... June something?”
“Brilliant,” Fitz said flatly. “Very specific. I’m sure she’ll be touched by your precision.”
“How do you know all this?” Colton interrupted, looking confused.
“Because I pay attention,” Fitz said. “Because Vivian is the kind of woman who deserves someone who pays attention. Who notices when she’s had a bad day.
Who asks follow-up questions. Who doesn’t just talk at her about his deadlift PR or his car’s custom rims or whatever protein powder is currently trending on Instagram. ”
Colton’s face darkened. “Are you saying I don’t pay attention to my girlfriend?”
“I’m saying,” Fitz said slowly, “that if you did pay attention, you’d realize how lucky you are. Extraordinarily lucky. Winning-the-lottery-while-being-struck-by-lightning lucky.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Colton said, “Whatever, man. She’s lucky to have me.”
I took another drink.
Fitz opened his mouth again.
“Don’t,” Hayden said.
Fitz kept going. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because Vivian doesn’t need anyone. She’s completely self-sufficient. Independent. The kind of woman who—”
“Fitz,” Nathan hissed. “Stop talking.”
“—could have anyone she wanted. Anyone. And she chose—well, she chose you, which is baffling, honestly, because I’ve seen her standards and they’re generally quite high. It’s like watching someone with a first-class ticket voluntarily sit in cargo.”
“FITZ!” Gabriel said loudly.
Colton stood up. “I’m gonna grab another pitcher.”
He walked toward the bar where a waitress was wiping down the counter. A pretty waitress. A pretty waitress who smiled when Colton leaned against the bar and said something I couldn’t hear.
I watched him laugh. Watched him flex—actually flex—while talking to her. Watched her giggle and touch his arm.
“Oh no,” Nathan said.
“Is he?” Gabriel started.
“He’s hitting on the waitress,” Hayden confirmed. “While his girlfriend’s coworkers watch.”
“Well,” Fitz said, taking a leisurely sip of his beer, “I suppose when you’re in a committed relationship, it’s important to keep your options open. Very modern of him. Very progressive.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered.
I drank the rest of my beer.
Then I poured another.
Then I drank that one, too.
“Quinton,” Gabriel said carefully. “Maybe slow down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re doing that thing where your jaw gets tight and—”
“I’m fine.”
Colton returned with the pitcher and a napkin with a phone number on it. He waved it at us. “Got her digits.”
“Congratulations,” Fitz said pleasantly. “Nothing says ‘I’m in a healthy, fulfilling relationship’ quite like collecting phone numbers from service workers. Really shows commitment.”
That was it.
That was the moment I snapped.
“Vivian’s dumping you!” I shouted.
The table went silent.
Colton blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. She’s dumping you. For a better man. An unquestionably smarter man.”
“Quinton,” Gabriel said urgently. “Stop talking.”
“A man who actually deserves her,” I continued. “Who doesn’t spend every conversation talking about his car, or his biceps, or his stupid protein shakes.”
Colton’s face went red. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Someone who actually sees her,” I shot back. “Someone who knows she’s brilliant and funny and kind and—”
“She’s a cold fish anyway,” Colton interrupted with a shrug.
The world went red.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Vivian’s a cold fish. Boring. No sense of humor. I was gonna dump her, anyway.”
I stood up so fast that my chair fell over.
“Vivian is not boring. She’s the funniest person I know. She’s warm and compassionate, and she lights up every room she walks into. She deserves someone who appreciates that. Someone who doesn’t treat her like an accessory. Someone who—”
Colton punched me in the face.
I didn’t see it coming. One second, I was mid-rant; the next, I was on the floor with a split lip and the distinct taste of blood in my mouth.
“QUINTON!” Gabriel yelled.
I looked up.
Colton was standing over me, fists clenched.
And I thought: Screw it.
I tackled him.
We hit the floor hard. Someone’s beer went flying. A basket of wings exploded across the table.
“FIGHT!” someone yelled.
Nathan tried to pull me off Colton.
Colton’s elbow caught Nathan in the ribs.
Nathan yelped and accidentally shoved Hayden, who stumbled into another table, knocking over three beers and a plate of nachos.
The guy at that table stood up. “What the hell, man?”
“It was an accident!” Hayden said.
The guy shoved Hayden, and Fitz, in a moment of spectacularly poor judgment, shoved the guy back. “Terribly sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But we don’t shove the elderly in Great Britian. It’s simply not done, old chap.”
“I’m forty-eight!” Hayden protested.
And then it was chaos. Pure, absolute chaos. Someone threw a punch. Someone else threw a chair. The waitress screamed. The bartender was yelling into a phone.
Gabriel was trying to pull Nathan away from a guy in a Patriots jersey.
Hayden was backed into a corner, holding a bar stool like a shield.
Fitz was laughing maniacally while dodging a very angry man in a Celtics hat. “This is brilliant!” he shouted. “Absolutely brilliant! It’s like a proper English pub brawl, except everyone’s wearing trainers!”
And I was still on the floor with Colton, both of us grappling like idiots.
Then I heard it.
Sirens.
“POLICE!” someone shouted.
Everyone froze.
The door burst open.
Two officers walked in, hands on their belts, and surveyed the wreckage. One of them sighed, shook her head and glared at Fitz. “Seriously, Lovejoy?”
“Officer Miller, it’s so wonderful to see you!”
“What did you do now, Lovejoy?”
“It was an accident, Margaret,” Fitz tried, straightening his shirt. “A complete misunderstanding. We were simply having a spirited discussion about the merits of American sports culture, and things got a bit... physical.”
“All right. Outside. All of you. Now,” the other officer ordered firmly.
Twenty minutes later, we were all in handcuffs.
All five of us. Sitting in the back of two police cruisers, looking like the world’s saddest boy band.
Gabriel was in the car ahead of us, his head in his hands. Nathan was muttering something about Ester and who was going to feed her, and Hayden looked like he’d aged ten years in the last hour.
I had a split lip, a black eye, and the sinking realization that I’d just gotten arrested for defending my girlfriend’s honor to her boyfriend.
Ex-boyfriend. Hopefully. And Fitz, drunk and completely unbothered, grinned from the seat next to me.
“Well,” he slurred, “that was fun.”
“Fun?” I repeated. “We just got arrested.”
“Details.”
“We’re going to jail, Fitz.”
“Temporarily. It’s quite nice. Americans are very good at infrastructure. The station has excellent Wi-Fi. Doesn’t it, Margaret?”
Officer Margaret simply nodded.
“Vivian is going to kill me.”
“Probably.”
“Julien is going to kill me.”
“Also probably. Though I’d wager Vivian gets first dibs. She seems the type to call dibs.”
I dropped my head back against the seat. “This is a disaster.”
“Could be worse,” Fitz said cheerfully.
“How?”
“Could be raining. Could be a Tuesday. Could be both. At least it’s Friday and we’ve got a proper story for the lads at the next pub. Well, a different pub than the one I’m thinking of because I’ve been banned from that one.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“We assaulted people, Fitz.”
“Technically, Colton assaulted you first. We were simply defending your honor. Very chivalrous, really. The Knights of the Round Table would be proud.”
“We’re going to have criminal records.”
“Builds character,” Fitz said sagely. “Besides, all the best people have been arrested at least once. It’s practically a rite of passage.”
Officer Margaret glanced back at us. “Are you two done?”
“Almost, darling,” Fitz said. Then he turned to me, grinning. “No worries, mate. I have everything under control. I have Winnie’s number memorized!”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Of course it is. Winnie’s brilliant in a crisis. Terrifying, but brilliant. She’ll have us out in no time. Probably. After she’s done yelling. There will be yelling.”
“So much yelling,” I agreed.
“But then she’ll bail us out.”
“Will she?”
“Absolutely. She loves me.”
“She hates you.”
“Same thing, really. Very thin line.”
I closed my eyes.
We were all going to die, but at least we’d die together.
In jail.
Because of Fitz.
Again.