Page 37 of Smooth As Whiskey

Slurring, he said, “Yeah. She’s mine.”

I glared, “You told me she was mine too.”

He scoffed, “Didn’t see you carrying her for nine months, Suutttttonnnnn.”

Maisie frowned and gripped my hand harder, “But daddy? You told me I could call Sutton mommy. So, I am hers.”

He sneered, “Then she shouldn’t have slept with Pagan and cheated on me.”

I gasped, “What are you talking about?”

Cheated on him? Has he lost his ever-loving fucking mind?

If you look at it, he was the one cheating on me.

What a dickhead.

That was when he grabbed his phone, did something on it, and then showed me a picture of a woman with Pagan plowing into her.

What the fuck?

“I want you out of my life.” Irish glared.

I lifted a brow and asked, “Were you drunk before or after you got that picture?”

“Nopppeeeee.” He slurred.

And then it hit me: he was using this as an excuse to get rid of me. He knew how I felt about him.

But never mind that, he wasn’t the man I thought he was. No, he was a coward.

Shaking my head, trying not to let the tears fall from my eyes, I dropped to my knees and pulled Maisie into my arms.

In her ear, I whispered, “I’m going to go away for a while, sweet girl. I don’t want you to think that any of this is your fault. If you ever want to talk to me, all you have to do is ask Aunt Gabby or Aunt Adeline. Okay?”

She wiped the tears from her eyes, nodded, then wrapped her little arms around me and held me close, well as close as a five-year-old could manage.

Then I stood, wiping away my tears, and leveled my gaze at him, “You’ve gone too far this time, Irish. Too fucking far.”

He sneered, “No, it’s you who doesn’t deserve me. I’m not the one whose damaged goods.”

If they ever say their heart can’t break anymore, well, then they haven’t had their heart broken. Truly and utterly destroyed.

All around us, the men of Zagan MC started to growl; curses flew. Chairs were slammed back, and fists pounded on the bar and the tables.

With tears in my eyes, I asked, “Is that how you really feel? Why you won’t make me yours.”

He scoffed, “You were never meant to be mine. I wouldn’t have someone like you raise my kid.”

And with that said, he took another pull from his glass of whiskey.

I should have walked over to him and slapped him as hard as I could.

I should grab that glass and pour it over his head.

But I was done. I was so fucking done with this shit.

That was when I looked at Asher for the last time and asked, “Office?”

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