I stare at him for a moment, unsure how to take his words. He’s still raging on the inside, I can see it. But on the outside, he’s calm—collected. Allowing me to leave. I reach forward and unlock the door, then pull it open.

I gasp when my eyes meet Ryle’s. I quickly glance over my shoulder to see Atlas filing out of the bathroom with me.

Ryle’s eyes fill with confusion as he looks from me to Atlas. “What the fuck, Lily?”

“Ryle.” My voice shakes. God, this looks so much worse than it is.

Atlas steps around me and turns toward the doors to the kitchen, as if Ryle doesn’t even exist to him. Ryle’s eyes are glued to Atlas’s back. Keep walking, Atlas.

Right when Atlas reaches the kitchen doors, he pauses.

No, no, no. Keep walking.

In what becomes one of the most dreadful moments I can imagine, he spins around and strides toward Ryle, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Almost as soon as it happens, Ryle forces Atlas back and slams him against the opposite wall. Atlas lunges for Ryle again, this time shoving his forearm against Ryle’s throat, pinning him against the wall.

“You touch her again and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and shove it down your throat, you worthless piece of shit!”

“Atlas, stop!” I yell.

Atlas releases Ryle forcefully, taking a huge step back. Ryle is breathing heavily, staring at Atlas long and hard. Then his focus moves directly to me. “Atlas?” He says his name with familiarity.

Why is Ryle saying Atlas’s name like that? Like he’s heard me say it before? I’ve never told him about Atlas.

Wait.

I did.

That first night on the roof. It was one of my naked truths.

Ryle lets out a disbelieving laugh and points at Atlas, but he’s still looking at me. “This is Atlas? The homeless boy you pity-fucked?”

Oh, God.

The hallway instantly becomes a blur of fists and elbows and my screams for them to stop. Two waiters push through the door behind me and shove past me, separating them just as quickly as it started.

They’re pushed apart against opposite walls, staring each other down, breathing heavily. I can’t even look at either of them.

I can’t look at Atlas. Not after what Ryle just said to him. I also can’t look at Ryle because he’s probably thinking the absolute worst possible thing right now.

“Out!” Atlas yells, pointing at the door, but looking at Ryle. “Get the hell out of my restaurant!”

I meet Ryle’s eyes as he begins to walk past me, scared of what I’ll see in them. But there isn’t any anger there.

Only hurt.

Lots of hurt.

He pauses as if he’s about to say something to me. But his face just twists into disappointment and he walks back out into the restaurant.

I finally glance up at Atlas and can see disappointment all across his face. Before I can explain away Ryle’s words to him, he turns and walks away, pushing through the kitchen doors.