I watch as she presses her lips together tightly and swallows.
“You want to break up?” she asks.
“Yes, I do. You deserve somebody who has time to give to you, even if it’s a casual relationship.”
Her face scrunches up, and she rears back like I slapped her. “You think we’re casual?”
“Uh, yes? You don’t?” My brows furrow as I take in her changing expression. She looks pissed.
“Finn, we’ve been dating exclusively for a few months now,” she states, her voice raising with each word. Her eyes narrow on me. “What part of that screams casual to you?”
Oh, boy.Did I read this entire situation wrong?
“Well, maybe the part where we only saw each other once a week,” I reply, keeping my voice low. “Or the part where neither of us met each other’s families?” This isn’t going the way I thought it would. In no way did I think she’d be happy about me ending things, but I didn’t expect this either. “Look, Vi, I’m sorry if you thought this was more than it was. My intention was never to lead you on or hurt you.”
It happens so fast, I don’t have any time to prepare or even anticipate it coming. In the blink of an eye, she throws her wine directly in my face, soaking my shirt and getting into my eyesand my mouth as she rises from her chair. “Fuck you, Finn,” she shouts, garnering the attention of everybody in the room. “You really need to take a good, long, hard look in the mirror if you truly believe we were casual. God, you’re a fucking prick.”
Before I have a chance to respond or try to calm her down, she’s storming across the room toward the exit.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath as I quickly retrieve my wallet from my back pocket and toss some cash down onto the table before standing up to follow her. My shirt is clinging to my chest, and wine is dripping from my beard. People all around the restaurant are gawking at us. This is just fucking great. “Violet, will you wait?”
Throwing me a middle finger over her shoulder, she grits out, “Screw you, Finn!”
Making eye contact with the hostess as we pass the station, I mouth, “I’m so sorry,” before blowing through the front door.
Instead of walking through the parking lot toward where my pickup is parked, Violet makes it clear that she’s not interested in riding home together as he takes a sudden left on the sidewalk that leads to the main road.
“Jesus Christ, Violet,” I mutter, fishing my keys from my pocket. “Will you stop?”
She doesn’t, nor does she say a word as she marches down the sidewalk, with her shoulders back and her chin jutted out.
For fuck’s sake.Heaving a sigh, I find my truck and climb inside, starting it in a hurry before backing out of the spot and leaving the parking lot. Thankfully, the road in front of the restaurant isn’t a busy one, and I’m able to slow down and roll down the passenger window as I approach where she’s walking.
“Violet, can you just get in the car? You don’t need to walk home; I can drive you.”
“No.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Stopping in her tracks, she turns to face me, fury painting her features. “I’mbeing ridiculous?” she repeats.
“Yes, I never meant for this to blow up. Let me at least drive you home.”
“I’m good, thanks,” she sneers before starting her walk again.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, following along beside her. “Violet, your house is a solid three miles from here, and you’re in heels. You and I both know your feet will be covered in blisters by the time you get home.”
That gets her to stop again. She doesn’t turn to face me again, but I can at least see her considering my offer. I may not want to date her anymore, but I’m not a total asshole. I can at least take her home.
“Goddamnit, Vi,” I curse, my blood pressure through the roof. “Get in the damn car already.”
With a huff, she does just that, refusing to look at me. “Fine, but this doesn’t mean you’re not a fucking dick, and this doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you. I’m only accepting your offer because I love these shoes, and walking that far would ruin them.”
Shaking my head, I turn on my blinker and veer into the lane again. “Fine,” I grumble, wanting nothing more than to drop her off and be done with this already.
Less than five minutes later, I’m pulling up in front of her house, and she gets out without saying a word, slamming my door as she leaves. I grit my teeth, annoyed that she’s taking it out on my fucking truck, but I don’t bother saying anything about it. Once I make sure she’s made it inside okay, I leave. The entire drive home, my mind isn’t on the messy and public breakup I just experienced. That would make too much sense. No, my mind is on my now ex-girlfriend’s brother. The man occupying part of my house and way more of my mind than I care to admit.
Not for the first—or second or third—time, my mind replays that night. The night when ignoring this gnawing feeling in the far back of my mind became impossible. I can vividly hear Ash’s grunts and moans and the filthy words he spoke as I sat in my room. Using the very toys I grilled him out earlier that night, no doubt doing it to fuck with me. To goad me. And fuck, did it work.
