“I know.” She gulped.

She did know.

She dragged the warm towel across my face, wiping the excess shaving cream away.

“I’m only an asshole when I drink to try to solve shit, and lately there hasn’t been anything to solve, so I’m fine.” Even I knew that wasn’t an ironclad guarantee. “I don’t want to be one of those geezers like my father who drink themselves stupid and endanger the people around me. And since you happen to be about the only person I give a fuck about, I don’t want to drink around you anymore.”

“I love you,” she’d simply replied.

“And I love you.”

Breaking the oh-so-serious air of the moment, and because I didn’t want to go down this road any further, I stared down at her body perched on the sink. She was wearing one of my white T-shirts, with nothing but black panties underneath.

“I may have to keep you around now that you can properly shave my face. You cook, you clean . . .”

She swatted at me and rolled her eyes. “And what do I get out of this deal? You are messy; you only help me cook once a week, if that. You are grumpy in the morning—”

I cut her off by placing my hand between her legs and pushing her panties to the side.

“I guess you are good at something.” She’d grinned as I slid one finger inside her.

“Only one thing?” I added another, and she groaned, her head rolling back.

THE BARTENDER’S HAND thumps against the counter in front of me. “I said, ‘Do you want another drink?’ ”

I blink a few times and look down at the bar, then up at him.

“Yeah.” I hand the glass over, the memory fading as I wait for my refill. “Another double.”

As the old, bald bastard heads down the bar, I hear a woman’s voice say with surprise, “Hardin? Hardin Scott?”

I turn my head to see the somewhat familiar face of Judy Welch, my mum’s old friend. Well, ex-friend. “Yeah.” I nod, noticing that age hasn’t been kind to her.

“Holy hell! It’s been, what . . . six years? Seven? Are you here alone?” She puts her hand on my shoulder and lifts herself onto the barstool next to me.

“Yeah, around that, and, yes, I’m here alone. My mum won’t be chasing after you.”

Judy has the unhappy face of a woman who’s drunk way too much in her lifetime. Her hair is the same white blond that it was when I was a teenager, and her implants look too large for her small frame. I remember the first time she touched me. I felt like a man—fucking my mum’s friend. And now, looking at her, I wouldn’t fuck her with the bald bartender’s dick.

She winks at me. “You have definitely grown up.”

My drink is placed in front of me, and I gulp it down within seconds.

“Talkative as ever.” She pats my shoulder again, calling out her drink order to the bartender. Then she turns to me. “Here to drown your sorrows? Love problems?”

“Neither.” I roll my glass between my fingers, listening to the ice clink against the glass.

“Well, I’m here to drown out a lot of both. So let’s you and I have a shot,” Judy says with a smile I remember from deep in the past and orders the two of us a round of cheap whiskey.

Chapter five

TESSA

Kimberly curses Christian out so bad over the phone that afterward she has to stop and catch her breath. She reaches a hand out to my shoulder. “Hopefully Hardin’s just walking around to clear his head. Christian said he was giving him space.” She groans in disapproval.

But I know Hardin, and I know that he doesn’t just “clear his head” by walking around. I try to reach him again, but I’m immediately met with his voicemail. He has turned his phone off completely.

“Do you think he would go to the wedding?” Kim looks at me. “You know, to cause a scene?”

I want to tell her that he wouldn’t do that, but with the weight of all of this pressing on him, I can’t deny it’s a possibility.

“I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this,” Kimberly says delicately. “But maybe you should come to the wedding after all—at least to make sure he doesn’t interrupt? Plus, it’s likely that he’s trying to find you anyway, and if nobody’s on their phones, that’s probably where he will look first.”

The idea of Hardin’s showing up to the church and causing a scene makes me nauseous. But selfishly I hope that he does go there, otherwise I will have almost no chance of finding him. That he has turned his phone off makes me worry if he wants to be found.

“I guess so. Maybe I should go and just stay outside, out front?” I suggest.

Kimberly nods sympathetically, but her expression hardens when a sleek black BMW pulls into the lot, parking next to Kimberly’s rental.

Christian steps out, dressed in a suit. “Any word from him?” he asks as he approaches. He leans in to kiss Kimberly on her cheek—a gesture of habit, I suppose—but she pulls away before his lips can touch her skin.

“I’m sorry,” I hear him whisper to her.

She shakes her head and turns her attention to me. My heart aches for her; she doesn’t deserve such a betrayal. I guess that’s the thing about betrayal, though: it holds no prejudice and preys on those who neither see it coming nor deserve it.

“Tessa’s coming with and is going to watch out for Hardin at the wedding,” she begins to explain. Then she meets Christian’s eyes. “So that while we’re all inside, she can make sure nothing else interrupts this precious day.” The venom in her tone is clear, but she remains calm.