39. Cassian #2
I’m on my fourth glass when I hear someone behind me. Swiveling on my stool, I see Viv watching me from the doorway. My heart jolts. She’s dressed in a matching set of satin pajamas—navy blue with tiny bows at the cuffs.
I give her a sloppy grin and hold up my glass. “Care to join me?”
“What are you doing, Cass?” she says, taking the seat next to me.
I set my drink back down. “What does it look like?”
She pries the tumbler from my hand and takes a sip. “Getting drunk.”
“That would be correct.”
Her eyes search for mine in the darkness. “Where have you been all day?”
“Working,” I say with a sneer. “That’s what I’m here for, remember?”
“Don’t do this, Cass.”
“Don’t do what?” I pour another splash of whiskey.
She sighs. “Pretend that I see you that way. You know I don’t. I never have, and I never will.”
“You say that now.” I let the glass dangle from my fingertips. “But give it time. Then you’ll see what they all do.”
She smacks her palm against the counter. “Goddamnit, Cass. What is going on with you?”
“That wanker is still here.” I grind the words out through my teeth.
Viv drops her gaze. “You mean Landon?”
“Yes, Landon,” I mock, and toss back the rest of the whiskey, letting it burn my throat.
“What do you think it’s been like for me today, watching the two of you waltz around here like lovers?
Coming home and seeing that the only lights on were the ones in your bedroom?
It took zero imagination to know exactly what was going on in there. ”
She places a cool hand on my arm. “Cass—”
I shake her off. “Don’t. Unless you’re going to tell me why he’s still here, I don’t want to hear it.”
She drops her head, and her hair falls forward, shielding her face from me. I fight the urge to tuck it back behind her ear. “He’s staying for the week.”
“Motherfu—” I shove my fingers into my hair. “The week? Why the fuck?”
“Because we’re getting married, and he came to help with wedding preparations.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” I hiss.
Her eyes cut to mine. “And some people might say that presents a problem. Looking at you now, I’d have to agree.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I reach for the whiskey bottle, but she grabs it before I can and scoots it further away.
“You know exactly what it means. You’re drunk and pissed because I’m marrying Landon, but you refuse to give us a chance. So why don’t you tell me what it is you want, Cass?”
“I want him to leave.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen, so I suggest you get used to it.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I wish I could hold her.
“Why are you doing this to me, Viv?” Desperation coats my words, but I don’t care. She’s raking me over a bed of hot coals, and I can’t take it anymore.
She shakes her head. “Because you’ve left me no choice! What am I supposed to do?”
“Anyone but him.”
“Or you.”
I reach for the bottle and take a long swig, avoiding her eyes.
“Nice. So now you don’t even want to talk about it,” she says.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
A sad laugh slips past her lips. “It’s not like that changed anything.”
I set the whiskey down, and the sound reverberates throughout the kitchen. “Didn’t change anything? I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since.”
Her swallow is audible, and my eyes fly to her throat.
I lean in close, and the scent of her perfume mixed with the fumes from the alcohol overwhelms my senses. “Every time I close my eyes, I replay that kiss in my mind. Except in my version, Bash never walks in.”
She lets out a shuddering breath. “Cass . . .”
“You’re already tormenting me every day with that memory. Do you have to do this, too?” I ask.
“I’m not doing it to torment you.”
“Maybe not, but now that you know, the least you can do is get rid of the guy.”
She looks at me like I’m being ridiculous. “You cannot be serious. I’m not breaking up with Landon because you don’t like him. You didn’t have a problem with me marrying him earlier.”
“That was before I knew you were going to parade him around in front of me, and I swear to god, Viv, I am so close to tearing that guy’s head off his shoulders.”
“He hasn’t done anything to you,” she says, scratching at a spot on the counter.
“He’s a prick. And even if he hadn’t done anything, which we both know isn’t true”—I cut her a sharp look—“I’d still want to beat him up for so much as breathing in your direction.”
She lets out a tiny sigh. “You’re being obnoxious.”
“You’re right, I am. But I don’t give a damn, because if that’s who you’re planning to spend the rest of your life with, someone needs to do something.”
Her eyes droop with sadness, and I hate that I’m the one who’s doing this to her, but it’s better than her suffering through a miserable marriage.
“Don’t marry him, Vivvy.” My voice cracks. “Please don’t marry him.”
“Give me one good reason,” she says quietly.
“He’s not good enough for you.”
She twists her mouth to the side, and the kitchen light catches the gleam of tears in her eyes.
“So I can’t be with the man I love because he’s not good enough, and I can’t be with the man I’m planning to marry for the same reason.
Tell me, is there anyone you do approve of?
Because it sounds like this is your way of having your cake and eating it too. ”
“Trust me, Vivvy,” I growl. “This is the furthest thing from eating my cake, and you know it.”