Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(82)

But my gaze was steady and hot as the sun. “Thank you for making this so easy for me. Have a nice life, Will. And I wouldn’t come back here if I were you.”

I scooted to the edge of the booth to get the hell away from him, but before I could get all the way out, he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, reaching for my hand.

“Wait.”

I met his eyes, pulling my hand away before he could touch me.

Another sigh. His face was touched with resignation, but his eyes were dark and stormy. “Annie, I’m sorry. I’m…I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t like being caught off guard, and I thought I was coming here today to get you back. I know I can be a dick. Please, forgive me.”

I softened. “Thank you. And I’m sorry to do this to you. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

His lips twitched in a sad smile. “All is fair in love and war, right?”

I offered an apologetic smile of my own. “I should go.”

“You’re not working today?” he asked.

“No, I’m off. I just came here to meet you.”

“Well, let me give you a ride home.” His face was turned down as he pulled on his coat.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I’ll catch a cab,” I said without hesitation.

He straightened his collar. “I insist. My car’s right outside. It’s the least I can do after my little outburst.”

I eyed him, looking for any sign of danger, but I found none. “All right. Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Cam was sitting at the bar, pretending to work on her laptop, but I knew it was a charade. Her eyes met mine in question.

“Let me go say bye to Cam real quick, okay?”

He nodded once, reaching for the dress boxes I’d brought. “The car’s just out front.”

I said my thanks, and we parted ways.

“What happened?” Cam said quietly when I approached, as if someone might overhear.

“It’s done. He’s going to give me a ride home.”

Her brows knit together. “You sure that’s okay?”

“It’s a ten-minute drive, and it’ll save me cab fare. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” she said, not sounding at all convinced. “Text me when you get home, okay? I worry.”

I laughed and made my promise.

A minute later, I slid into the Mercedes with Will, who leaned toward his door, face propped on his hand, staring out the window.

The driver pulled away from the curb.

The car was silent, and with every tick of the clock, the quiet screwed tighter until it was thrumming between us.

“I can’t believe you chose him over me,” he said, almost to himself, the words touched with disbelief and disapproval.

I’d naively thought it was over. Stupid me. Discomfort slid over me. “Will, I thought—”

“What could he possibly give you that I can’t? How could you possibly choose him over me? Didn’t I do everything you wanted?”

He turned to look at me, and for the first time, I saw Will as he truly was. The angles of his face sharpened, his eyes glinting with superiority.

“Didn’t I give you the things you wanted, like that day in Central Park? Didn’t I tell you we could take it slow even though it was the last thing I wanted? Didn’t I put up with your bullshit with Brandon? I cared about you. I thought…I thought you could be a fresh start, a second chance, one I didn’t even deserve. I would never hurt you, no matter what that asshole says about me.”

I watched him rant with my lips parted, my eyes skimming his hard, angry body.

“I can’t believe I lost to him.”

I didn’t realize I’d been shifting to the door, the instinct to get out of the car hijacking my body, sending a cold chill up my back and to the hairs on my neck.

His face shifted, flashing with anger, his hand darting out to grab my wrist. His fingers closed around the small circumference and yanked, pulling me across the leather bench and into him. I yelped in surprise.

“You should be mine.”

“Let me go, Will,” I said through my teeth, twisting my flaming wrist, but it was locked in his fist.

“Sir?” The driver eyed us in the rearview mirror.

“You’re hurting me,” I bit out, tears filling my eyes.

“You’re supposed to be mine,” he said, holding me still as he pressed a rigid kiss to my lips.

I fought against him, uselessly pushing his stony chest with my free hand and turning my head to escape his unyielding mouth, but he pulled me closer. My heart jackhammered, dimming my vision in pulses.

“Sir!”

Will’s face turned to the driver as the car came to a stop.

I pulled my free hand back and slapped him hard enough to send the sting up to my elbow. And in his shock, he relaxed his grip enough for me to reclaim my wrist. I flew across the car and opened the door, scrambling out just before his fingers closed on the back of my jacket.

And the moment my feet hit the pavement, I ran.

He shouted a string of insults out the open door, but they didn’t reach me. I barely registered the honking cars or the Mercedes pulling away. All I could hear was the erratic thump of my pulse in my ears. All I could feel was the cold ground beneath my feet. All I knew was that I had to escape.