Kayla started to turn just as Chelsea sat down with him. Oh holy hot dog, no, no, just . . .
“OH NO!” I yelled, purposely spilling my wine all over the table.
Hopefully, the racket was loud enough to gain his attention.
And it was.
But the minute Kayla looked where I was looking, it was too late.
He was at dinner with another girl.
I was at dinner with his ex.
Oh dear.
To his credit, Lucas smiled, waved, and got up. He said something to Chelsea that I’m sure meant he’d make up for it later—in the bedroom—for having to abandon her unexpectedly and sauntered over to us while she gathered her things and left.
Damn the man. He didn’t have a right to look so good in a suit jacket.
Kayla started shaking.
I wasn’t sure who I felt worse for: her, Chelsea, or Satan, as he made his way toward us, his jaw twitching like he was clenching his teeth.
“Hey, um, hey there . . . baby.” I choked and threw my arms around his neck.
He wheezed, coughed, then did what Lucas Thorn always does when he’s cornered by a female—he kissed me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LUCAS
It was hard to feel disappointed about losing yet another one of my girls when my lips were in the process of plundering Avery’s mouth—with the aid of my tongue. Ten more minutes, and I was going to be tossing her over my shoulder.
Because that’s what a grown man did in fancy restaurants—screw a girl he wasn’t even on a date with, against the very table where his ex-fiancée is seated.
Perfect plan.
“Chelsea works here, thus the gift card I got for you,” I whispered against Avery’s ear. Since I was in that general vicinity I decided a slow nibble wouldn’t hurt. She let out a little squeak, tightening her arms around my neck.
It felt too real.
All of it.
And I wanted that, the realness, the feel of her body against mine, her smooth curves filling my hands, her fingers stretched across my neck—and then slowly, sadly, she pulled away and hung her head. “I missed you.”
“Surprise!” I said, trying to wing it. “I figured you would come here, so I had Chelsea get me a table far enough away from the drama so I could at least intervene if need be.”
“How heroic.” Avery blinked and then nodded toward Kayla.
I didn’t want to look at Kayla.
I didn’t want to talk to her.
I didn’t want to be put in a position where I had to explain myself to the very woman who I’d left at the altar—because I was in love with her little sister.
Shit.
Admitting the situation in my head was almost as bad as finally saying it out loud. I wrapped my arm around Avery and faced Kayla.
Tears streamed down her face.
I was the cause of them.
And I hated myself for it. Even if Kayla had doubts too, there was no justification for what I did to her—not that she forced me to do something as horrible as I did.
There was no justification for what I did to Kayla.
Everyone had expected us to get married. But we’d been fighting, and deep down she must have known that we’d been growing apart. That we’d stayed together out of familiarity and habit.
Even though I knew it wasn’t the time to say it, she had to know, in her gut, that we would have never worked.
“Kayla, you look really good.” I held out my hand. She hesitated and then sat up a little taller, taking the compliment and pressing her hand firmer against mine. I’d always hated how she shook hands. She’d always been a bit vain, needing attention and adulation to feel good about herself. I hoped that my greeting would set her at ease—and though she did look good, she didn’t compare to Avery.
The breadbasket arrived.
Avery ripped into it like a hungry lion, while Kayla tore small pieces and put them on her plate, only to plop one in her mouth, chew a billion times, and finally swallow.
God, it was like seeing her for the first time—and suddenly I wondered how we’d stayed together as long as we did. So many things had started to pull us apart before we even got engaged. I’d always despised Kayla’s eating habits, especially after all the fights we got into about her not eating. Back then she thought the perfect body was about being skinny, and it was apparent she hadn’t changed much in that regard. I’d never noticed how thin her face was, or how clothes hung so loosely on her body. Most women would probably envy her wispy frame, but it made my fingers itch to run up and down Avery’s legs, then hold her tight.
“So this is . . . so nice,” Avery choked out, taking a huge sip of wine between her giant bites of bread. “Should we order?”
“YES!” I said a little too loudly.
“Look, guys”—Kayla’s shoulders slumped—“I appreciate the show, but honestly this is awkward and it’s not going to get better. I haven’t had an appetite all day, so why don’t you two just enjoy dinner tonight.” She stood. “Avery, I love you. I’ll talk to you later.”
Her eyes locked on mine. “Lucas.”
And she was gone.
I exhaled in relief while Avery pointed at the breadbasket, her mouth filled with bread, and said, “Are you going to eat that?”
“By all means, have all five pieces. It’s not communal or anything,” I joked as the waiter dropped off two menus.
“That was . . .” I glanced back at the door. “How is she?”
Avery made a noise. “How would you be if you dated someone for most of your life and thought it meant forever, only to find him in someone else’s bed and then, plot twist.” She was really tearing into that bread. “Now that she’s finally over it, her goofy little sister suddenly steps in and decides she wants a piece.”