“I never dated him. Megan worked for him. At his clinic. He was going through a divorce or something, was separated from his wife at the time, I think. Megan dated him. I never did. I was with you.”

His expression was unreadable. He didn’t move a muscle. Was he feeling the same distinct shock she was?

“Megan showed me pictures of you with him.”

“So?”

“They don’t lie, Rebecca. You were with him. Together.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I went to dinner with him and Megan once,” she said. “And . . .” And then she got it. “Are you trying to tell me that while Megan went to the bathroom she actually took pictures of Michael and me together? Like we were on a date or something?” she said, staring at him. “And you believed it? Didn’t even come to me to ask me about it?”

When he didn’t respond immediately, she glared at him. “Are you kidding me?” Her heart hardened. “You believed Megan. Never asked me about it?”

His brows pinched together.

“Really . . . You believed Megan! Oh, I see. It was easier. It was the easy way out. You wanted to believe it.”

He looked about to argue, but thankfully didn’t. Because when push came to shove, it didn’t matter. Water under the bridge and all that. She reminded herself the only reason that she was here was to find Megan.

“Okay. So I’m a dick,” he finally admitted.

She didn’t say a word.

“You could at least argue the point,” he suggested.

“I could.” She waited, all the while aware of his gaze lingering on hers. She didn’t back down, just stared back at him. “But I’m not going to.”

“Fair enough.” He seemed to want to say something else. She could tell he was still processing.

“I don’t want to talk about could have beens,” she preempted.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she snapped back.

His eyes held hers for a second too long. “I . . . should’ve tried harder.”

“Yes. You should’ve.” She wouldn’t bend. If she bent, she’d break. “Let’s move on.”

“You got it.” He drained his glass and signaled for another.

“You were telling me what happened,” she reminded him, forcing the conversation to the situation at hand, refusing to notice the hard line of his jaw, masked a bit by the beard growth, nor the breadth of his shoulders, nor the way his hair, where it hadn’t been shaved, curled behind his ear.

Nor would she admit that her heartbeat was ticking a little faster. “You said she attacked you.”

“She did.”

“And you couldn’t defend yourself? From a woman who doesn’t weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds?”