“A friend?” I asked with a snort. The only piece of information to make my heart stutter was Cillian beating up Kaminski. I had no idea he did that.
“A chick from high school. She’s running a spring break resort there. It was always crowded, lots of people moving in and out. I knew Brennan would have a bitch of a time catching me there. I cleaned her pool.”
“Platonically, I assume.” I rolled my eyes. He was such a cliché.
He laughed humorlessly.
“Please, Pers. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been sucking Fitzpatrick’s cock every night the better half of this year. We both did what we had to do in order to survive.”
“In my case, I enjoyed the task immensely,” I lamented. “You haven’t even picked up the phone to check in on your grandmother.”
I knew because I asked at the nursing home if they’d heard from him each time I visited.
Paxton flopped his cheek over his fist, sighing.
“I knew you would take care of her. I’d trust you with my own life. You always do the right thing. Listen, we’re out of the woods now. Mitch told me the debt has been paid. Byrne’s out of the picture. We can be together, Persy. Start over fresh. Pick up where we left off. He didn’t make you sign a prenup, right?”
My ex-husband wasn’t only insane, he was also as dumb as a shoestring. I tried to remember what I saw in him in the first place, beyond his Instagram model looks. The answer was clear as it was embarrassing—he was the designated rebound. The antidote to Cillian’s refusal. The untried vaccine that ended up nearly killing me.
“We’re happily divorced. I married someone else.” I erected my wedding finger, an engagement ring with a diamond the size of his face sparkling back at him.
I never took it off. Even when I knew I should.
Paxton jumped up to his feet, hurrying over to me. Maybe it was because he wasn’t built like Cillian—not quite as tall, as broad, as commanding—or maybe it was because he simply wasn’t Cillian, but his very presence annoyed me.
“I get it, babe. You’re angry. You’re hurt. You have every right to be. But you’re not fooling anyone. Your marriage isn’t real.” He stood before me now, grabbing my arms, itching to shake me.
“Ours wasn’t, either. In the spirit of being candid, I, too, have a confession to make.” I broke out of his grip, taking a step forward, my breath fanning his face. “You were always nothing more than a distraction. It was always Kill. You were on borrowed time. But Cillian? Cillian is my forever.”
The words settled between us, an invisible barbed-wire barrier.
By the way Paxton stared at me, I knew he wanted to rip it apart.
The hunger in his eyes alarmed me, even if I knew it wasn’t for me, but for all the things I represented now: wealth, power, and connections.
“All right,” he rustled. “You win. I’ll be the side piece. But it’s gonna cost ya.”
“I don’t want a side piece. Even if I did, you would be the last person on the planet I’d consider. You are mean and selfish, Paxton. Get out of my apartment before I speed-dial Sam Brennan and throw you out myself.”
“Babe,” he groaned, seizing me by the jaw, walking me backward until my back hit the door. “I know you’re pissed, but we were good together.”
His lips spoke over mine. He was kissing me. Half-kissing me, anyway. His breath and heat and body pressed against mine. His tongue rolled over my lower lip.
“I don’t want good,” I spat into his mouth. He tripped backward, his eyes wide.
A slow, vicious smile spread on my face. I didn’t recognize myself in my behavior, and for the first time, I was fine with it. “I want divine, and I found it. Get the hell out, Veitch.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go.”
It was promise, a warning, and a declaration. He stepped away, giving me a once-over, assessing me before he made his next move. “I’ll change your mind. I won you once, and I can do it again. Whether it’s the easy way or the hard way, you’ll be writhing beneath me in no time, and when you are, I promise you, Persephone, I will make sure your husband knows it.”
“Out!”
He shouldered past me with his tail tucked between his legs.
I closed the door, locked, and bolted it, then pressed my back against it, letting out a ragged breath, feeling rather than thinking a word that’d been pulsating against my skin from the moment I said “I do” to my new husband.
Saved.
“You dumb piece of cock-sucking shit.” I raised a fist to Sam Brennan’s face the minute he walked through my door, slamming it against his thrice-broken nose.
I’d texted Brennan at five in the morning to let him know if he didn’t show up at my doorstep in fifteen minutes, I was going to buy every building in Southie—federal and private—and bulldoze through each childhood memory in his neighborhood just to shit all over his day.