CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Saturday, May 27
Andrew
His mind racing, Andrew zoomed around Delray for thirty minutes, scouting Nick’s regular haunts: Duffy’s, Bru’s Room, Flannigan’s. The memory of Kathryn striking Max soured his stomach. The pain in the boy’s eyes. He’d finally met his son, and the boy hated him.
And ugly, dark suspicions. Kathryn had insisted she and Nick had just gone for drinks. Was it more, had they slept together? The thought spotted his vision with red, and Andrew gripped the wheel. Then he spotted Nick’s black Mustang, tucked in a corner spot at a dive bar at the north end of town, and jerked his car into the lot. He killed the engine, then darted through the puddles left behind by the storm. The place was dim, the walls adorned with dusty nautical paraphernalia and rusted license plates. Nick was at the far end of the bar, and Andrew slid onto the stool beside him. He pictured Nick’s hands on Kathryn’s bare skin, and swallowed the acid that rose in his throat. “We need to talk.”
Nick was nonplussed by his presence, and tossed back a shot, then set the empty glass on the bar. In front of Nick, a beer sweated against the worn wood. The astringent smell of tequila floated on the air. Andrew salivated.
Andrew dropped his voice. “What the hell is going on between you and Kathryn?” The idea of Nick and Kathryn together, Nick’s hands on her dress, her skin, kissing her, braided into a twisted version of his dream, Nick in his place—and crimson rage again seeped into his vision.
The bartender dropped a coaster in front of Andrew. “What’s your poison, my good man?”
Andrew’s eyes traced the backlit bottles behind the bar, the amber and gold. Smooth. Magic. A craving for relief. Andrew waved him off with an unsteady hand. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, Drew.” Nick’s dark eyes blazed. “But there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and Kathryn.”
Relief? Disbelief? “Then why did Max lure you to her house? Have you two been ‘going out for drinks’ the entire time you lived here?”
“What does it matter how often we go out?” Nick barked. “You have no claim over her. It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business!” Around the bar, heads snapped in their direction. Nick waved them off, and Andrew again lowered his tone. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. But for two years you knew I had a kid, and you never breathed a word. You knew she lived in town when I moved here. What the fuck? What else do you know that you’re not telling me?” Nick’s glare wavered. “Why does your loyalty lie with Kathryn?”
“My loyalty?” Nick’s eyes locked with his. “What about yours? You sure as hell haven’t been considering Amy while you’re sneaking around.”
Andrew swallowed. “Don’t bring Amy into this. Kathryn and I have a child together.”
“I thought we were past all this, Andrew. We’re not twenty-two anymore. But we’re still fighting over the same shit.” Nick took a drag from his beer, and Andrew’s stomach clenched. “I told you in the beginning I wasn’t going to get in the middle of the mess you two made.”
Andrew heaved a breath. “Then don’t get in the middle of it. Leave Kathryn alone.”
“Fuck off, Drew. She doesn’t belong to you.” Nick’s voice was thick. “And you have bigger problems,” he taunted. “Max knows now. He’s pissed off, and you have no idea what he’s capable of.”
Again, Max’s face flashed. His shape disappearing out the front door, away from Kathryn. His distraught eyes as he stood in the street, fighting with his girlfriend. Andrew knew that pain, that panic. It was a vein that ran deep within him.
“You have a secret kid in the same town as your wife.” Nick let out a twisted giggle. “I told you to tell Amy at the start. I told you not to marry her if you were still pining over your ex—which you swore you weren’t. Some bullshit that turned out to be. I told you Amy deserved to know you nearly killed yourself with booze once, and there’s a good chance you’ll do it again if something in your life goes tits up. But you ignored me like you always do. And now you’re carrying on with Kathryn.” He snorted a breath. “You’re in deep shit. And you’d better not come to me when all this blows up—because I promise you, it will.” Nick lifted his drink to his lips once more.
Andrew wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. He had to get to Kathryn. Had to get to Max. This was spiraling out of control, and it was only a matter of time before the tidal wave reached Amy.