Page 74 of Fate

Her eyes go straight to me and back to the surly man. “Absolutely. Best man in the whole world. Greatest father my Cora could ever have.” She preens, and I know her words are genuine. That doesn’t change the fact they are about my man. Fuck. This woman not only wants Carson, she’s half in love with him or nearly a step away from completely in love with him already.

“Now”—she turns to me, sucks back the shot, chases it with the beer, and then slams the empty on the counter—“what’s it going to take to get you to goaway?”

Her words hit me like a Mack truck.

“Excuse me?” I cock my head back, not sure of what I’ve just heard.

“You heard me. I need you gone. Carson and I have a child. I’m living in his house. He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you. I want him to stop fucking you and for you to disappear. So, what is it going to take?” She blinks slowly, waiting for me to catchup.

I bring my hands up and flail them in front of me like I’m swatting away a horde of angry bees. “Wait a good goddamn minute. Carson is not fucking you. Don’t even try to lie to me. He’d never cheat.” I know this simple fact like I know I don’t need another hole in myhead.

A sly grin crosses her lips. “It’s cute you really believethat.”

“With my entire being,” I deadpan.

She laughs and knocks her beer over. It lands in my lap. I jump up and away, but it’s too late. I’m tagged by most of a pint. “Fuck!”

Misty stands, grabs the ratty towel on the bar, and tries to wipe it off. “My goodness me. I’m so sorry. Let me get that.” She pats at my wet clothes, the dress I’d worn to work today completely ruined. I’d never get the beer stink off one hundred percentsilk.

“Go on to the bathroom. There’s some towels. I’ll wait here,” she says, and I go, mostly to get away from her and get my bearings.

He’s fucking me, and he’s fucking you. I want him to stop fuckingyou.

Those were her exact words.

Carson would not cheat.

It’s cute you believethat.

I grab a handful of towels, run them under the cold water, and blot at my dress. It’s no use. Definitely ruined. Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the bottom of what she’d said. I pat away most the moisture and take a look at myself in the hazy mirror above the dirtysink.

“She’s playing you. Don’t believe her lies,” I tell my reflection in the mirror.

Don’t believe herlies.

Don’t believe herlies.

Don’t believe herlies.

I chant the phrase in my head over and over until I make it back and sit down next to her. I pick up my Jack and water and chug it until it’s gone. She smiles and her eyes light up like Christmas Day at Disneyland. The burn of the whiskey hits my belly hard. That’s when I turn toher.

“Prove it,” I sneer, leaning against thebar.

“Provewhat?”

“That Carson is cheating on me.” The words come out smooth, but my insides are churning.

She snickers, pulls the cowl neck of her shirt aside, and shows me a couple hickeys on the valleys of her breasts. “He made those last night.”

I laugh, unable to hold back my amusement. “You honestly think I’m going to believe you were fucking Carson last night because of a couple of hickeys? Anyone could have put those there.”

She nonchalantly picks up her phone. “A picture is worth a thousand words. Here’s a handful of them. What’s that worth? Like a million?” Her words are chilling as she hands me her phone.

My heart stops. The Jack in my stomach swirls in a violent vortex as I look at the horrifying display in full color. Carson lying down, bare-chested, Misty in a black lace bra and thong on top of him. Her lips on his chest.

I swipe to the right.

Carson lying down, his hand on her thigh, his head turned toward her breast.

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