yet it felt as though a clash of thunder or a streak of lightning bolted across my body.
I didn’t have to meet her eyes to know she was judging me. Her narrowed stare pointed directly at me and then the bottle as I brought the glass up to my mouth.
She sat down next to me, murmuring, “You heard.”
“I heard.”
She grabbed the Jack out of my hand. The only woman brave enough to do so.
“What are you doing?” she questioned.
“What does it look like?” I answered.
She didn’t hesitate in replying, “Feeling sorry for yourself.”
We locked eyes.
“You don’t have a right to be pissed, Romeo. I hope you realize that.”
I jerked back. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
She bit her bottom lip and looked around. “You’re drunk, okay? Let’s just get you—”
“—Home.” I barked out a laugh, “Funny, since home has only ever been wherever you are.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there we were.
At a standoff.
A battle.
A war I had started and couldn’t end. If I did, I’d lose, and I wasn’t ready to give up the fight inside of me yet. Instead, I had done what came naturally. I’d pushed her away, into my brother’s arms; that was where she belonged.
“Go home, Red. Go home to your fiancé.”
Panic seized my chest as the thought continued to bulldoze through my brain—through my body.
She was engaged.
Getting married.
Becoming Mrs. Sinacore.
It was my worst nightmare come to life. I’d singlehandedly just lost both my brother and the love of my life in one hard blow.
More pain.
More heartbreak.
It was unfair.
Wrong.
So fucking wrong.
“That’s not fair,” she challenged, strong and determined. “What did you want me to do? Huh? Say no?”
I looked her up and down. “I think the better question is, did you want to say yes?”
“Romeo…”
“I’m waiting.”
“Please don’t make me answer that.”
“If you don’t, then I’ll never know.”
In one breath, she confirmed, “You know.”
I scoffed out a snide chuckle, standing up. “I need to go.”
“You’re drunk.”
“No shit. That’s why I need to go before I do something I’ll regret.”
“And what’s that?”
“Kiss you. Fuck you. Claim you.”
She gasped, obviously not expecting me to say that.
“See, I need to fucking go before I hurt my brother.”
“And what about me? What about hurting me?” She reached for my arm, her fingertips pressing into my wrist. “Do my feelings not matter?”
I jerked away from her touch. “Says the women who said yes to my brother.”
She winced, not trying to hide it. Though it was useless if she tried to hide anything from me.
“You’re being unfair. You’re the one who’s always treated me like nothing but a friend.”
“Tristian loves you.”
“And you, Romeo?”
She spoke with conviction, almost knocking me on my ass…
“Do you love me?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Maybe I’m the villain in your story, but I am the hero in mine.” —The Timingila
Romeo
Fuck.
“We’re not doing this here,” I demanded in a harsh tone.
“If not here, then where?”
“I’m not doing this with you anywhere.”
“So then that’s it? We’re done because you say so?”
I stepped close to her face, wiping away the solitary tear that slid down her cheek. I reached for her then, cupping her face between the palms of my hands. She was crying silently, and my fingertips were keeping up with each tear, trying to erase the damage that was already done.
She was right.
This was my fault.
And I’d hate myself for an eternity.
I would hate myself for killing what could have been without even trying.
“We were over before we began.” Eden sniffled. “Weren’t we?”
I squeezed my eyes closed, inhaled, exhaled, existed in her presence, greedy for it, sick with it. “Yes.”
“Wh-why?”
I opened my eyes, my hands dropping to my sides, angry that they weren’t touching her soft skin anymore but dangling like useless weapons that had lost their drive, their purpose, their pursuit.
“Because our love wouldn’t survive it—and I refuse to do that to you, Eden. I refuse to make you marry the monster when all you’ve ever wanted was the man. You deserve that. You deserve someone good. You deserve someone that won’t come home with lipstick on his collar and another woman’s perfume on his neck.”
Eden’s eyes flickered with anger as she shoved me. I didn’t waver.
Good, let her be angry.
Let her be jealous.
I welcomed her hate more than anything; it drowned out the love that demanded to be noticed between us.
Yes, let her despise me.
Because I already did.
We were at an impasse.
A standstill.
“Keys.” She held out her hand, breaking our stolen moment.
I grabbed the bottle, taking it with me, then reached into my suit jacket