It Ends With Us(56)

The bandage wrapped around Ryle’s hand.

Back to my eye.

“We love your restaurant,” Allysa says. “You have an incredible place here.”

Atlas doesn’t look at her. I see the roll of his throat as he swallows. His jaw hardens and he says nothing as he walks away.

Shit.

The waiter tries to cover for Atlas’s hasty retreat by smiling and showing way too many teeth. “Enjoy your dessert,” he says, scuffling off to the kitchen.

“Bummer,” Allysa says. “We find a new favorite restaurant and the chef is an *.”

Ryle laughs. “Yeah, but the *s are the best ones. Gordon Ramsay?”

“Good point,” Marshall says.

I put my hand on Ryle’s arm. “Bathroom,” I tell him.

He nods as I scoot out of the booth, and Marshall says, “What about Wolfgang Puck? You think he’s an *?”

I walk across the restaurant, head down, fast paced. As soon as I get into the familiar hallway, I keep going. I push open the door to the women’s restroom and then turn around and lock it.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The look in his eye. The anger in his jaw.

I’m relieved he walked away, but I’m half-convinced he’s probably going to be waiting outside the restaurant when we leave, ready to kick Ryle’s ass.

I breathe in my nose, out my mouth, wash my hands, repeat the breathing. Once I’m more calm, I dry my hands on a towel.

I’ll just go back out there and tell Ryle I’m not feeling well. We’ll leave and we’ll never come back. They all think the chef is an *, so that can be my excuse.

I unlock the door, but I don’t pull it open. It starts pushing open from the other side, so I step back. Atlas steps inside the bathroom with me and locks the door. His back rests against the door as he stares at me, focused on the cut near my eye.

“What happened?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

His eyes are narrow, still ice blue but somehow burning with fire. “You’re lying, Lily.”

I muster enough of a smile to get me by. “It was an accident.”

Atlas laughs, but then his face falls flat. “Leave him.”

Leave him?

Jesus, he thinks this is something else entirely. I take a step forward and shake my head. “He’s not like that, Atlas. It wasn’t like that. Ryle is a good person.”

He tilts his head and leans it forward a little bit. “Funny. You sound just like your mother.”

His words sting. I immediately try to reach around him for the door, but he grabs my wrist. “Leave him, Lily.”

I yank my hand away. I turn my back to him and inhale a deep breath. I release it slowly as I face him again. “If it’s any comparison at all, I’m more scared of you right now than I’ve ever been of him.”

My words make Atlas pause for a moment. His nod starts out slowly, and then gets more prominent as he steps away from the door. “I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He motions toward the door. “Just trying to repay the concern you’ve always shown me.”

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 f*ck, 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 f*cking 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-f*cked?”

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.