Claire was a talker, that much I figured out, and she kept going — on and on and on — but her words faded out as my heartbeat grew louder and louder between my ears. There he was, my Whiskey, but he’d never really been mine. That notion had never struck me quite as hard as it did in that moment I saw him with another woman in his lap, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist as he looked up at her just like he used to look at me. Every now and then, she’d drop her lips to his, and his hand around her waist would tighten, along with the knot in my stomach. They were both smiling, laughing, happy.

And then I did the math. Four months would put them together in August, which either meant he’d moved on quickly or they’d been fucking around when we were still together. But we weren’t together, not really, and that was the harshest zinger of all.

Acid rose in my throat and I pushed it back down with a long swig of Makers, turning in my seat to face the bar again.

“Whoa, you okay, sweets? Looking a little pale there,” Claire said, cocking a brow.

I nodded, at least I think I did. I couldn’t be sure. The music had morphed, slow, bass pounding along with my heart. I drained the rest of my drink, which only added to my nausea, then I stood abruptly, the bar stool screeching against the floor with the force. “Nice meeting you.”

“You too?” She said it almost as a question, eying me as I grabbed my clutch and made to bolt for the door. But new high heels and rushing didn’t mix with nerves, or anger, which I felt slowly bubbling, so I slipped, falling against the two guys who were seated right next to us. I mumbled an apology, pushing my way through the gathering crowd toward the door when I heard my name called over my shoulder. I ignored it, quickening my pace until I finally pushed through the exit. I inhaled a deep breath once the cool air hit my skin, nearly doubling over. For a second I stood, fumbling for my keys, and just as I steadied them and hit the unlock button on my car, I heard my name again.

“B?”

I couldn’t catch a full breath, my chest squeezing with every attempt. I was going to pass out if I didn’t calm down. I found my balance again before walking toward the parking lot, but glanced a look over my shoulder. “Oh, hey Jamie. Uh, yeah, I was just leaving though so—”

“Wait.” He hooked a strong hand around my elbow and as soon as his skin touched mine, my entire body buzzed to life, just like it always did in the presence of Whiskey. I let him stop me, but I couldn’t lift my eyes to his, so I stared at the hem of his shirt instead. “What are you doing here?”

There it was. There was the question I imagined him asking, only when I brought myself to look at him, his eyes weren’t full of wonder — they were full of accusation. And that was all it took to tip my bubbling anger over the edge, the scalding liquid of it searing any rationality I had tried to hold onto.

“I’m here visiting my mom. I would ask you what you’re doing, but I have eyes, so,” I said, pulling my elbow from his grasp and motioning toward the bar with my tongue pressed hard against the inside of my cheek.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what it’s supposed to mean,” I seethed. What was wrong with me? The last thing I wanted when I showed up tonight was a fight, but apparently the whiskey mixed with what I’d seen had lit a fire in my stomach that couldn’t be put out easily. I folded my arms and stepped closer, causing Jamie to inhale a stiff breath at our proximity. “Tell me, did you fuck her the night before you asked me to talk? Did you feel guilty and desperate to lock me down before the pressure of long distance took you under?”

“What?” Jamie’s nose flared and I felt every muscle in him coil with tension without even having to lay a finger on him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the little pixie blonde who was just mauling your face,” I answered. “Angel is her name, right?” Jamie blanched at that, and I smirked, feeling like I’d won when I knew I was the clear loser before I even walked into the bar. “Oh yeah, Claire? Her BFF? She filled me in on the whole situation when I spotted you two sucking face.”

Jamie’s shoulders were squared, like he was waiting for me to start swinging. I was almost to the point where I could, madness radiating off me like steam from a hot summer rain. I hated him. I hated myself. I wanted to run away as much as I wanted to pound my fists on his chest.

“And?” he finally challenged, stepping into my space this time. I sniffed, my eyes dipping away from his for a moment, but I didn’t back away. “What, are you mad? Is that what you’re trying to say? Because I’d be really fucking interested to hear why you think you have any right to be.”

“Just tell me, okay? You cheated on me, didn’t you? I was in Pittsburgh, and she was here, and it was easier with her, right?” I shook my head. “Why did you even make the big gesture? Why not just tell me?”

“You think I ch—?” He couldn’t even get the entire sentence out. It died on his lips, killed by a sinister laugh and his hands rushing back through his hair. It was longer than the last time I’d seen it, just how I liked it. I wanted my hands in it, instead. I wanted his mouth on mine. Even now, even raging mad, I needed him. “Angel and I didn’t start talking until October, not that that is any of your goddamn business. She asked me out countless times over the summer and I turned her down every single fucking time because of you. Not because it would have been cheating, since you made it perfectly clear that we were not a couple, but because I loved you, B.”

This time I did flinch, and I stepped back quickly, suddenly uncomfortable from the heat I felt from his skin. But Jamie wasn’t backing down, and he pushed into my space more, until my back was against the brick wall of the building and I had to look away.

“I fucking loved you, and you loved me, too. But you wouldn’t be with me. Not when I asked, not when I begged, not when I proved to you that we could do it. You were the one who didn’t—” Again, his words were cut short, and he dropped his gaze to our feet. I took the opportunity to look at him again, and his jaw ticked under the skin as his eyes slowly climbed back to mine. “You’re wearing heels.”

The heat in his gaze took a hard turn away from anger as those words left his mouth in a low, gravelly voice. It was primal now, and each breath he took felt connected to mine as I watched it leave his chest. The last time he commented on my heels, they ended up wrapped around his waist. Everything inside me craved that same connection, but the wine-stained lipstick smears from another woman on Jamie’s lips annihilated that yearning like the snuffing of a flame.