Page 33 of Hate Mates

Poppy disappeared into the kitchen, and Dad swung his apprehensive stare my way. “I trust I can leave you here without you causing any more trouble…?”

“No promises.”

Dad sighed, torn between refereeing a guaranteed blowout between Sutton and me or going after Poppy. His heart won.

Sutton shifted in her seat, the gesture moving the lapel over her right breast, the lace fringing the cup of her white bra peeking out.

“Don’t you know better than to put things in your mouth you shouldn’t?”

She half-shrugged. “I haven’t died yet.”

“You almost sound disappointed by that.” Her arched brows tipped inward. “You seriously knew there was Dijon in that dressing?” I tested.

Sutton leveled me with a flinty look. “What do you think?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

Exasperated, her lips pursed. “Do you have nothing better to do than to play hero? We both know you play villain so well.”

“Is that what you want? A villain?”

“No, Damien.” She leaned into the table, dropping her voice. “I want to get this dinner, this conversation, this fucking trip, over with. Then, I want to leave.”

And not come back,I concluded.

“I’ll count you in for the wedding, then?”

She gritted her teeth. “Send me a postcard.”

“Will you be alive to receive it?”

“If we’re both lucky, the answer to that is ‘no’.”

“What is with you?—”

“You hadonefucking job that night.One,” she hissed. “I told you what to choose, and you chose this.” She pointed at her face. “Ask ‘what’s with me’ again, I dare you.”

“You are so goddamn vain.” Her beauty. Using it like a weapon. Her obsession with how people perceived her. Why should I be surprised she hadn’t changed at all in seven years, that she was just as narcissistic as she’d always been?

“And you are a monster who has forced me to endure this for the rest of my life until something puts me out of my goddamn misery, or I grow a spine and do it myself.”

She blinked twice, hard, playing with the remaining cutlery set against the tablecloth to calm herself.

“I chose you, Sutton.”

“You chose yourself.” Her stare burned. “Because you were too cowardly to do the hard thing. Therightthing. Your life goes on, unaffected, and I despise you for it.”

Unaffected? My nostrils flared. “You think that shit doesn’t keep me up at night?”

She laughed. “Am I supposed to feel bad for you or something?” Her head canted a little to the right, masking the scar. “Like we’re kindred spirits now?”

“I didn’t?—”

“Youdid. You did, Damien, because you are a selfish son of a bitch. You are as sick as yourfriends”—her teeth gnashed together, my skin turning tight—“I begged you. I begged you to end it. I don’t give a shit if you can’t sleep at night. Take a fucking number. You. Did. This. To. Me.” Her hand rattled. “And I will never forgive you.”

“Good. Don’t.” Her head reared back like I’d slapped her. “I don’t need your absolution. I warned you to stay the fuck away from him, andyoudidn’t listen. You played with fire. You got burned. You chose wrong. But I never did.”

Shitty choice of words? Sure. But I’d chosen her every single fucking time.

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