K. Bromberg - Aced

She leans her back against the doorjamb and I shift my feet, wanting to rush this, get the fuck away from here, but I need more. Seeing her causes the memories to resurface. The lies she told. Her manipulative ways. How I thought she’d been in cahoots with Eddie in stealing the blueprints way the fuck back when. Despite investigators and depositions, and every other legal means under the sun CJ couldn’t find shit to prove she was involved. To say I had a hard time believing she was innocent is an understatement. But I did. Had no choice.

The question is, do I believe that now?

“Did you ever watch it?” And it’s a stupid question, but the thought of her of all people watching Ry and me have sex seems ten more times intrusive than the other millions of people who have.

“No. Never,” she says definitively, earning her a rise of my eyebrow in disbelief. “Really. That’s why I never thought twice about it.”

Great. Now I’ve given her the idea to go watch it. Brilliant, Donavan . Fucking brilliant. But then again, I had to ask. Had to know.

I blow out a breath, roll my shoulders, and ask the one question left that makes no fucking sense to me. “If he had the video though, why wait all this time?”

She angles her head as she stares at me, feet shifting, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know, Colton. I just don’t know.”

Impatient, uncomfortable, and still a little thrown by this new woman in front of me that looks the same but sounds so very different, I just nod my head, turn my back, and stride down the walk to my car. I don’t know what else to do. There is no good in goodbye here. There’s just the closing of a door on another chapter of my past.

“Colton.”

Every muscle in my body tenses—feet want to keep walking—yet curiosity stops me dead in my tracks. With my back to her, I wait for her to say whatever it is she wants to say.

“It’s good to see you happy. It suits you. I know now that’s because of Rylee.”

I lift my eyes to meet Rylee’s at the same time Tawny speaks. I hear her statement, take it for what it is, and don’t try to find a hidden meaning or an underlying dig. With eyes locked on Rylee’s, I nod my head in acknowledgement and walk toward the car.

Time can change people. The woman with violet eyes staring back at me? She’s my living proof that I’ve done just that, changed .

Tawny might have changed too, yet I don’t have the effort to care right now. I have a wife that is more important than the air I fucking breathe, and being this close to Tawny, I’m starting to suffocate.

I need my air.

“TALK ABOUT BLINDSIDING HER,” BECKS says.

“Which one?” I ask with a laugh followed by a hiss as I throw back the Macallan. The shit’s smooth but burns like a motherfucker.

“I was talking about Tawny but you’ve got a point there,” Becks says with a smirk. “I imagine Rylee got whiplash when she saw Tawny open the front door.”

“I’m sure she did, but thank fuck she stayed in the car or who knows what would have happened.”

“You’re a brave fucker taking Ry there after everything she did to the two of you,” he says as he lifts two fingers to our waitress for another round.

“Brave or stupid. But this right here,” I say, holding my left hand in the air and pointing to my wedding ring, “means I didn’t dare visit Tawny without her. That would have been no bueno . Besides, she had a right to know since she called it.”

“Dude, I still can’t get over the fact you saw Tawny after all this time.”

“Yeah . . . well . . .” I shrug, thinking of all of the shit I said way back when about how I’d never step within a hundred yards of her again. “Sometimes the promises you make to yourself are the easiest to break. And shit, we were on the way back from the police station so I figured why not kill two birds with one stone since we’d dodged the vultures?”

“I can’t believe the paps are still all over you. Is Ry okay after yesterday?”

I blow out a breath. Fucking assholes. “A little shaken but she’s scrappy.” I clench my fist on the table as I recall her phone call yesterday. How she tried to take a walk on the beach to get some fresh air but paparazzi shifted from the gate to the sand and swarmed her before she could even reach the waterline.

And I know how she felt—needing the fresh air—because I feel the same way. Isn’t that why I’m here right now? Decompressing. Grabbing a few minutes while she’s taking a nap after the excitement of my visit to Tawny today, to hang with Becks, shoot the shit, and get a change of scenery to make me a better man. Sitting in your own house day after day can wear on any man. Make you feel like an animal in the zoo: caged, pacing, and constantly toyed with by those on the outside looking in.

I grit my teeth and thank fuck the back entrance of Sully’s pub was paparazzi-free so Sammy could drop me off and I could slide in and meet Becks without being mobbed. After yesterday and how they treated Ry, my fuse is short and ready to ignite at the slightest misstep.

“Was it strange seeing her again after all this time?” Becks asks as he lifts his beer to his lips.

“Is the sky blue? Fuck, man . . . it was weird. But she gave me what I needed to know so maybe she’s changed some.”

“Don’t give her that much credit,” he murmurs.

“I don’t give her any.”

“Smart,” he says and slides the cardboard coaster around on the table. “Should have known Eddie would be the one to pull shit like this. Fucker.”

“Fucker,” I repeat because anything else would be a waste of breath. I glance at my phone to make sure Ry or Kelly hasn’t texted since the noise in the bar is getting louder the longer we sit here.

“Everything okay?”

“After ten more of these it will be. Need to drink to forget,” I say, rolling my shoulders and letting out a frustrated sigh. Too much shit, too damn fast. I want my happy, baby-crazed wife back. Her job back. Our life back. “It’s not gonna help shit and I’ll be sicker than a dog in the morning, but sometimes, it’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“Truth. And I’ve got just the prescription for us,” Becks says as he motions to the waitress again to head over to our regular table tucked in the back.

“What can I get you boys?” she asks, smile wide and cleavage jiggling.

“Bottle of Patron Gold. Two shot glasses, please. We need to forget,” Becks says.

“That’ll sure do the job,” she says with a lift of her eyebrows. “Looks like you’re going to be stuck here for a while anyway with the way paparazzi are stacking up outside.”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

“Sorry, hon. We find out who in here called, we’re kicking their sorry asses to the curb,” she says louder than normal so those around us can hear her. She starts to walk away and then stops and turns around. “And we’ll stick ’em with your tab.”

I throw my head back with a laugh. “I like the way you think.”

She returns within minutes, our ongoing tab and prior large tips always earning us the best service. “Here you go, boys,” she says, as she sets two full shot glasses in front of us, and the bottle in between us. “May God rest your souls.”

“Amen to that,” Becks says as he lifts his glass. “What’s the first thing we need to forget?”

“Paparazzi.”

“Cheers,” he says as we tap our glasses against each other’s. “Fuck you, paparazzi.”