Page 215 of Holding On To Good

“Right,” he said slowly.

She nodded. Pursed her lips and studied her nails. “Did I tell you I saw Willow yesterday?”

He sat frozen, unable to move. Barely breathing. Lips clamped tight together so he wouldn’t ask how she looked. How she acted.

Was she happy? Content to move on with her life as if they’d never happened?

Or was she as miserable as he was?

He didn’t want to ask because he wasn’t sure which one he wanted her to be.

And that really did make him a fucking asshole.

“She was with her sisters and Hayden and the other bridesmaids. They were leaving Candy’s Salon as I was walking in,” Verity continued, watching him carefully. “Funny, but she didn’t ask about you, either. And she had that same haunted, melancholy look on her face that you currently have on yours.” Her pause was pointed and as dramatic as her entrance had been. “Sort of like she’d just lost her best friend. Although,” Verity went on, not done twisting the goddamn knife, “I’m not sure if her anguish pushed her to punch a hole in her living room wall—”

“Hey now,” Miles said with a frown. “You weren’t supposed to mention that.”

While they’d been able to clean up the mess Urban had made, they hadn’t been able to fix the drywall before she got home the next morning. Urban had wondered why she hadn’t asked him about it, now he knew it was probably because she’d gone to Miles or Toby instead.

At least she hadn’t seen the hole in the wall in his bedroom.

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Just like I’m not supposed to mention the stain on the kitchen floor that looks like the remnants of a murder. Or ask why Bromberg Furniture delivered Urban a new bed Tuesday morning. A bed, I might add,” she said, turning back to him, “that you still haven’t slept in. Why, if I was the suspicious type, I might just think that while I was away, you shot your shot with Willow and utterly and completely messed everything up.”

And, Jesus, if that wasn’t a little too close to the truth for his liking.

Miles and Toby now flanked Verity, their gazes on him as watchful as Verity’s. As worried.

Next time he hid in his office, he was locking the fucking door.

“I didn’t punch the wall,” he told Verity. The hole she was referring to had come from one of the framed photographs he’d heaved across the room. And he’d had the drywall—in both the living room and his bedroom—repaired and repainted days ago. “And the stain on the floor is wine. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

“Uh, that still doesn’t explain what did happen to the wall or why there’s a huge wine stain on the floor.”

No, it didn’t.

And he never would explain.

He sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her that he’d gotten drunk then trashed their home in a fit of rage and helplessness.

He’d lost control and he hated that.

Hated it even more that she knew about part of it. That Miles and Toby had witnessed the aftermath.

Even if he did appreciate their help—and that they hadn’t pushed him to talk about it—afterward.

Huffing in frustration, Verity stomped her bare foot, reminding Urban of when she’d been a toddler. “Stop it. Stop lying to me or trying to protect me or whatever it is you’re doing. It’s not fair. It’s condescending. And it’s infuriating as all get out to be treated like a child. And I swear to God,” she added between clenched teeth, “if any of you point out how I just stomped my foot, there really will be a murder.”

“Everything’s fine,” Toby told her. “There’s no need for you to worry.”

“Of course I’m worried! He’s broken,” she said, nodding at Urban. Then she turned to Miles, her voice breaking, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Fix him.”

“Hey, hey,” Miles said as Bella whined and nudged Verity’s hands. Miles took a hold of Verity’s shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Toby’s right. Everything’s okay. Just a rough patch. I promise.”

“It is not just a rough patch,” she insisted, blinking rapidly, hugging her arms around herself. She chewed on her lower lip and when she spoke again, it was a burst of words. “Maybe I shouldn’t go away to school.”

Miles raised his eyebrows. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from us?”

“Well, I can’t just leave you all here to your own devices. That much is clear. And it’s not like I’d actually be able to enjoy living my best life of freedom, decadence and depravity knowing Urban is here alone, punching walls and dumping wine on the floor.”

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