ChapterEighteen
Wynter
He brought a date.The words flow through my brain on repeat. The little green monster inside me jumps up and down. I don’t know what more I expect though; I pushed him to it. Pushed him away. My stomach sinks as my line of sight finds her again, his date.
She’s runway hot. Long, tan legs. Tight red dress. Almost bleach blonde hair drapes her heart-shaped face and her makeup is perfect. She’s clearly from upper-class New York, given the composure she holds and the dress she’s wearing. She’s gorgeous - more his type than I will ever be.
I catch Addison walking back to me with drinks from the bar. Not sure I could drink enough alcohol to survive tonight.
I want to run away, to lick the wounds I caused to myself, but that would be admitting I was wrong, that I shouldn’t have let him go.
“Your Manhattan as requested.” She follows my eyes to Weston. “He came?” A tinge of shock emanates in her voice. “And… he brought a date…”
“Yep, yep, he did.” I swallow my Manhattan in several large gulps, hands shaking as I down it. The need to feel the burn from the whisky is strong.
“Hey, Wyn. Have you ever thought about telling him how you feel?”
“No need to now. He’s got a new girl. I’m no longer important.” I wave my hand in their general direction, watching as she giggles when he whispers something in her ear. I feel sick, seeing him with her. His lips should whisper sweet nothings into my ear, not hers.
I try to keep my face impassive as he looks over at me, or I hope that’s my expression. Inside my head I feel stabby, raging because Weston Croix is mine. Or he could have been, had I not throw him away like a casualty. I’m trying to put together why I have such potent feelings and such a reaction. I should be happy he’s moved on. It’s what I wanted, but I hate it. Every single bit of it.
I watch as she strokes those perfectly manicured nails down his biceps and I want to rip every fingernail from her dainty little fingers.
He lifts his hand to wave at us and starts walking over.Fucking great.
I plaster on a fake smile as they get closer, hoping that my eyes aren’t shooting the daggers I feel right now.
Holding out my hand, I introduce myself. “I didn’t know West was bringing a date tonight. How nice to meet you. I’m Wynter Carlisle. My family puts on this event.”
“Kalliope.” She places her hand in mine, squeezing gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Wes here has told me so much about you.”
“Has he now?” I eye him suspiciously.
He holds up his hands in defense. “Only wonderful things, Chief.”
And… we’re back to him calling me Chief…
He stands there in front of me without a care in the world, his arm casually draped over her shoulder, almost touching her boobs, and I resist the urge to bristle.Kalliope… What kind of name is that anyhow?
She smiles up at him like he’s a fucking godsend, and I want to pull her hair out.
I shake my head, rolling off these weird notions of violence. I’ve never felt this way before toward a woman. But then again… it involves Weston Croix. My attention is wholly on him. I can’t pull myself away from his draw. My addiction to him.
I eye fuck him as I look him over. His styled inky hair and the tailored navy suit leaves nothing to the imagination. The way it hugs his lean, masculine body in the best way possible. I’m jealous. So jealous that he’s here with her and not me.
“So,” I say, pointing between them. “Is this a thing?”
She smiles up at him. “Oh, no. This is a casual thing. I’m helping him get over some girl who dumped him like a piece of trash. Can you believe that anyone would pass up this sweet man?” She lets her hand slide through his hair and my heart breaks because she’s talking about me. I’m the one who dumped him like he was worthless. I’m the asshole in this scenario and that makes me feel like dirt.
“Isn’t she a doll, Chief? I knew you two would get along great.”
I scoff.Right.I watch as the hint of a smirk lifts the corners of his lips. He’s enjoying this… seeing me upset about the whole situation and digging in deeper. I thought I knew Weston better than this… I never thought he could be so cruel. Apparently, it only takes a little heartbreak to bring everything to the surface.
My eyes flit to the gala goers around us. Everyone is laughing, enjoying themselves while I’m sitting here torturing myself with the Weston and Kalliope show. Addison must feel the tension as she looks on with an unreadable expression.
“So, the place looks magnificent tonight. Every single thing set up perfectly, sparing no expense. Another hit.” I smile at him, although I feel like crying. Why does he keep standing here, showing off his recent love interest? Why not move on and let me wallow in peace? It’s unfair. Maybe it’s selfish, but it’s the truest form of how I feel.
“Wes, this was such a great idea for date night.” She looks around the room, eyeing the people laughing and giggling in the group next to us. “I love how everyone’s enjoying themselves. I’m going to need another drink though. Would you be a doll and go get me one?”