his beautiful green eyes. They’re emerald pits of deception. I can’t believe that I even fell for him. Anger surges through me like the ocean’s tide. It ebbs and flows, and then it’s constant and persistent.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethe. “I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”
Like he’s sulking, he bends his head forward, rubs the back of his neck and nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I know.”
He knows? So he’s here to what… make matters worse? I’m thankful for the beer in my hand. If I have something in my hands, I won’t fidget, and I certainly won’t hit him, like I really want to. I can be argumentative and flinty with the best of them. I grew up in a bar with fishermen. I wrote the book on bitch-mode. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I uh….”
That’s what he has to say? For six months, he didn’t think to tell me he was married, and now all he has to say to me is uh? “Why did you come here?” I drop the other case. It breaks. Avie is going to kill me. “Isn’t your wife wondering where you’re at?”
He swallows, flinching at my words. “I was wondering if I could get the ring back?” he asks, his eyes on the beer spilling from the cardboard case. Of course he can’t look at me in the face when he asks for it back. Why would he? That’d be fucking noble of him, and apparently, as we just found out, noble is not his strong suit.
Did I forget to tell you he proposed the night I found out he was married? Must have slipped my mind in my fit of rage. Just so you know, I wasn’t going to say yes. I didn’t like him that much, but still, a shitty situation for me.
I take a deep breath in, trying to prepare myself for the rant I’ve been practicing.
My attention lifts from the beer to the commotion on the docks, and then I let him have it. “You know, Dev, I thought maybe I’d give you the benefit of the doubt first. What the hell were you thinking asking me to marry you when you were already married?”
He shrugs, but I can tell me shortening his name pissed him off. I’ll go ahead and mark this down as a point on my behalf.
I drive my hand into his shoulder. “I deserve a goddamn answer!”
His eyes shift to mine. Probably because I’ve said fuck and goddamn, while in the entire time we dated, I don’t think I cussed at all. Or maybe because I’m shouting and people on the streets are gawking at us. I look at a woman who’s staring and smile. “Don’t worry, he’s married. I just found out.”
By the way her face pales, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but you know, I think everyone in this town needs to know what a lying sack of shit he is.
Just when I’m going to walk away, he reaches for my hand. “I was going to file for divorce.”
“And what, marry me next and then a year into it find a new wife? How many times have you done this to women?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never.”
I snort, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest. “Until now.”
Shaking his head, he blows out a breath. “Until now. Listen, Journey,” his voice softens and he tries to reach for my hand, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Stepping back a foot, I start laughing. Full-on hysterical laughing and then that turns into more stares, people stopping in the street and just about the time I feel like I’m going to burst into tears, I get angry and yell, “Fuck. You. Devereux. Don’t ever come here again.”
In a rush, Avie comes outside, the heavy wooden door swinging open with the ding from the bell above it. “Is everything okay out here?” His eyes move from the broken beer bottles on the street to me, and then Devereux. “What the fuck are you doing here, you piece of shit?”
Yep. I told my big brother all about big douchebag.
Devereux holds his hands up and backs up a step. “I just came to say I was sorry. I don’t want no trouble.”
I might not have mentioned this, but Avie has a temper. One that’s known around this small coastal town. He once put a grabby patron in the