Everett, who’s in the supply room, comes out with my coat on his face. “Didn’t have sex with who?” And then he whispers, “I know I’m not on that list.” And winks.
Rolling my eyes, I grab my jacket off him. “Sorry. And mind your business.”
He laughs. “I was, until you hit me in the face.”
I push him forward and into the kitchen. “Get back to work.”
Mal sighs. “Avie’s looking for you. Something about a supplier issue. He’s driving up to Olympia to pick it up. It’s game night, so it’s fucking mad crazy in there.”
Relief washes over me, but then I catch onto what she said. Avie’s looking for me. “Did he leave already?”
She nods. “Yeah, I told him you had diarrhea.”
I snort. “Wow, thanks.”
“No problem. Hoes before bros.”
“That’s not the saying.”
“I know, but it works. Oh, hey, wait.”
“What?”
Mal darts her gaze around the room and then leans in. “Are we still planning on throwing a party for Kylo on Saturday?”
“Yeah. I felt bad we couldn’t do it last week, so I think we should.” We had everything planned, and then pneumonia happened.
“Cool. I ordered a cake,” she tells me in passing as she makes her way toward the back room.
Blowing out a breath, I try to prepare myself for a game night at the bar, not knowing where it’s going to go from here. Will Lincoln show back up? Rounding the corner, the raucous laughter of the night fills the bar. It’s packed, and I can see why Avie had probably been wondering where I went. Dylan’s covering my end of the bar and, in passing, reminds me, “You’re splitting tips with me, bitch.”
I nod, acknowledging her. It’s not like I wouldn’t as I always do.
It’s who’s seated at the bar that captures my attention and nerves.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Do you know who I’m talking to? It could be anyone at this point, huh? But, if you guessed Devereux, then you’re right on the money.
“Where is it?” he asks, not bothering with the small talk.
“For the hundredth fucking time, I don’t have it.” I articulate each word carefully. “I threw it in the ocean. Probably in the gut of a whale by now.”
Based off past experience, I’m expecting anger. Hell, I’m even expecting rage, but to my surprise, he laughs. The son of a bitch just laughs in my face.
Gripping the neck of the bottle of gin in front of me, I’m tempted to smack him upside the head with it. I often dream about doing this to men when they get frisky at the bar but have yet to try out my theory that the bottle doesn’t break like it does in the movies. Now seems like a perfect time to try it out. “What’s funny?”
“The irony in all this.”
My mouth goes completely dry. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, Journey.” He pauses, probably for effect, and leans in with his elbows resting on the lip of the bar. “It’s not like I truly give a shit about that ring. If I did, I wouldn’t have given it to you.” Oh, wow. Way to slap me in the face. A scowl forms on his brows as he scans my face. “The truth is that ring wasn’t mine to give, and now I need it back. The fact that you threw it into the ocean is just fucking ironic, is all. There’s a lot at play here that you don’t know.”
I stiffen my shoulders and tilt my chin up, my heart hammering in my chest. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
Devereux’s eyes bounce from mine to Mal, who is watching our interaction. “What I mean is you go and throw that ring away like it’s nothing when in fact, it’s a very big something. You may have thought you were hurting me when you did that, but all you did was prove that you’ve got no idea how this world works.”
Boisterous laughter breaks out in the bar, screams and shouts over the game. The tinkle of glasses as drinks are mixed holds my attention. I look at Mal, then Devereux as he turns his head to see what’s going on. I follow the sharp line of his jaw, the crooked nose, the dark hair hidden beneath the black beanie cap, and finally his eyes. There’s no amount of tenderness in them. What did I ever see in this guy?
Devereux twists on the stool, his eyes landing on mine. They dip to