“Shit,” Joey whispered. “Why?”

Fuck. I still wasn’t even sure. To let me know how I could have had her if I’d just reached for it? To stab my fucking heart with her own pain? What in the hell had her motivation been?

I told them everything, leaving out the part about the hottest sex of my life, and when I got to the part of the Bluetooth speakers somehow turning on—probably in my mad dash to answer the phone while I was skidding across my wet floor, both of them flinched.

Not helpful.

“And you left? Without talking to her?”

“What was I supposed to say? She was hurt, and I did that. She wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me. Trust me—you didn’t see the pain in her eyes when she looked at me.” I had though, wasn’t sure I’d ever forget that look. “Fuckkk. What am I going to do?”

“Do?” Dom asked, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Do about what? You promised Emmersyn you’d be married to her for a year. You’re not considering backing out now, are you?”

“What? Fuck no.” That hadn’t even occurred to me. “I meant with making things better.”

“God, you’re stupid,” Joey said. “I mean, you could just tell Emmersyn how you feel. Tell her you don’t want Ava, and you want her. That you love her.”

“I can’t lie to her.”

“Would it be a lie?” Dominick asked, and I was pretty sure I’d worn a similar smug expression when I’d gotten him to realize how much he cared for Holly and Ben.

“Of course it would.” I took a hefty swallow of my drink and winced as the alcohol burned my throat. “I don’t… I can’t… it’s been like a month…”

I trailed off. I couldn’t love Emmersyn. Not yet?

Could it?

“Yeah.” Joey took a sip of his beer and leaned back in the booth. “Maybe have another drink and think about that one some more.”

He grabbed Bonnie’s attention, his main manager and the woman who was currently behind the bar.

I took his advice.

Had another drink and since that one didn’t help, I had a few more.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

My arm was slung over Dominick’s shoulder. My legs weren’t working properly and the cement in front of my house kept waving back and forth.

“You don’t need to help me like I’m stupid.”

“You are stupid and you do need help.”

He helped me up the front porch stairs, but I misjudged one—or it jumped out and bit me, and I took a cement edge to my shin. “Fuck.” I stumbled and slammed my palm into the air for support.

“Maybe you’re right,” I muttered.

Dominick laughed and knocked on my door. He’d grabbed my phone before we left the bar, where I was pretty sure I drained the entire place of their whiskey and let Emmersyn know he was bringing me home.

“About what? Being stupid or needing help?”