“What?” he hisses.
“This is done. We are done.”
“Antoinette. Let’s take a breath.” The calm in his voice is so at odds with his body language that it’s unsettling. “Throwing away three years of our lives isn’t a reasonable decision.”
“David, I’d trade the three years we spent together—three years you spent berating me, belittling me, trying to make me something less than what I am so you could feel like more—for this last year without you in a fucking heartbeat.”
He stares at me in shock.
I walk the short distance to the living room and scoop up his duffel. He grabs my arm with enough force that I know there will be bruises tomorrow.
In this moment—with him staring down at me, nothing but vitriol and the threat of violence in his eyes—I see the kind of man he is for the first time. The pristine packaging finally cracking to expose the rot beneath.
“You don’t get to throw me out.” He says it like his words are law. Like they mean anything at all.
Pathetic.
“If you don’t get your hand off of me, David, I’ll feed you your fucking teeth.” My tone is measured, but something in my expression must’ve reminded him that I was a force of nature, while he was nothing more than a sad little boy.
He lets go of me, recoiling like he’s been burned, and rips the bag from my hands. “Don’t come crawling back to me when Hurricane Toni inevitably fucks everything up.”
I can’t help but laugh. A loud, big, echoing laugh. The laugh he always hated. Too much. Too boisterous. Too me. Too bad for him, it was the last time he’d be lucky enough to hear it.
“Get the fuck out of my house, David. And have the life you deserve.”
Slamming the door behind him feels like finally closing a chapter.
CHAPTER 33
Toni
I impatiently watchfrom a crack in my front curtains until David’s ride finally arrives, taking him to whatever midrange hotel he’d be spending his night in.
The moment he’s gone, I call Cillian.
Straight to voicemail.
Nervously, I pace around my apartment, put up the food David and I hadn’t touched, anything to kill a few minutes before trying to call again.
No luck.
By the time the third call goes to voicemail, I’m already getting in my car.
Cillian’s car isn’t in the lot behind Two Sons, but Oliver’s is. Even if Cillian wasn’t here, maybe he knew where I could find him.
The place isn’t too busy, which means I have a clear line of sight to where Lucy and Oliver chat over the bar.
“Hey!” Oliver says as I approach.
Lucy opens one arm, and I let her pull me into her side. “Is Cillian here?” I ask.
The look they exchange speaks volumes. “We thought he was with you,” Oliver says.
I sigh and take the stool beside Lucy. “He came by.” My voice sounds tired. “My ex was there and?—”
“David?” Lucy asks, shocked.
“Yeah, he showed up today. On my fucking porch.” I give them a quick rundown of the shit show.
