Page 138 of The Christmas Wife

"Have you any idea how pompous you sound, you prat?"

"So?" He straightens his arm, tugs on the sleeve of the white button-down that shows below his jacket.

"So?" I raise the shoulders, "So it’s bloody off-putting."

Damian frowns. "Who are you, and what have you done to my douchebag wanker of a friend?" he mutters.

"I’ll let you know when I find the fuck out." I bring the glass to my lips, take a sip, then grimace. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to substitute alcohol for coffee. I hadn't stopped drinking since I’d dragged my sorry ass home, after seeing my mother in the hospital yesterday.

They’d discharged her this morning, thank fuck. The poison, whatever it was, had vanished from her system. It had left her weak, but she was stable. Thank the bloody gods. I’d lost one parent already; I’m not ready to lose another. I don’t want to lose her. "Fuck." I raise the glass, down half of it. Sweat breaks on my brow. My left hand—so far unhurt. Maybe I need to remedy that? Sure, go for it, wipe out the career you’ve worked so hard to build, huh? Why not, while you’re at it, light a flame to everything you’ve achieved thus far… All of it is nothing, meaningless without her. I slap the glass onto the bar potty it cracks. Huh? The amber liquid bleeds out onto the mahogany counter top.

"You all right?" Damian’s voice is concerned.

"Yes. No." I plant my elbows on the bar, in the whiskey which seeps into my sleeves, but whatever. Why the fuck should I care that I smell like a distillery? It’s not like she’s there to bury her nose in my chest, to rub her cheek into my shoulder, turn her face into my arm pit and coil into me like the feline, sensuous woman she is. "Go away," I moan, then bury my head between my palms.If I press my hands tightly against my ears, would it block out the sound of her laughter?I snicker.Getting delusional now, huh? You’ve gone mental; admit it.

"Wes," Damian grips my shoulder, "you’ve gotta get yourself in hand."

"For what?" I mutter, "I let her leave. Didn’t have the balls to go after her either."

"Maybe you aren’t ready yet for this relationship."

I stiffen. "The fuck do you mean?"

"She was too good for you, ol’ chap."

That she was.

"She’s someone who deserves better."

"She deserves the best," I agree.

"And you’re all wrong for her."

"Clearly."

"You did the right thing."

Huh?I scowl.

"If you can’t make her happy, you should let her go. If she comes back to you?—"

"—She won’t," I mumble. "She bloody hates me."

"Ihate you. The world doesn’t like you, man, it’s normal."

"Thanks," I grumble. "Nice to know I can trust you to have my back."

"Always," I hear the laughter in his voice, turn and shoot him a glance.

His features are schooled into a serious expression, which is seriously weird. Which also means he’s trying to rile me.

"The fuck’s on your mind?" I growl.

"Me?" He points to himself, "Nothing, man. I’m not the one with a broken heart?—"

"I break hearts. I don’t get mine broken…" my voice trails off.

He nods. "Sadly, I believe you’ve crossed over to the dark side."

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