Page 70 of One Hotlanta Night
I blow out a breath. I’m not one to play games, and I don’t have anything to hide. Not anymore and definitely not from Michael.
“My… my last ex called earlier today looking for me. He freaked out one of our employees and said he was coming back tonight. For me. I haven’t talked to him in months,” I clarify, not wanting to give Michael even a moment’s concern. “I don’t know what wild hair’s gotten under his ass, but I’ll deal with him,” I finish in a rushed breath.
There, now he knows. I don’t want to give him any reason not to trust me, especially after what happened with Trent. At the same time, I don’t want Michael getting into it with Trent if the douche decides to show his ass. Based on the stories Michael told me about the fights he’d get into growing up, especially the one that landed him here, I can see this getting out of hand pretty quickly with my possessive man.
I can handle Trent myself; he’s more bark than bite anyway, But I don’t want my new boyfriend—or fiancé? My cheeks flush—to land in jail if Trent starts mouthing off.
“You’re not doing this alone, and you’re not going unprotected, Vivan,” Michael says firmly before he hangs up. Hesounded… almost frustrated with me. What the actual hell? I don’t have much time to ruminate on it, however, because one of the servers comes in to tell me that table twelve is upset that our mustard-style barbeque sauce is definitelynotthe same recipe she has been getting here for the past ten years, and I’m pulled into a tug of war about historical taste buds.
It’s now just one hour left til close, and we’re finally getting a chance to catch our breaths, when the unmistakable scent of Tommy Boy cologne invades my nostrils. Oh my word, is heactuallywearing that? That was my Christmas gift to him two years ago. Last time I’d seen it, the bottle was still sitting in the box on his dresser. Trent said it stunk—just like me.
Looking up, I watch as he saunters in. His wannabe-bad-boy swagger that used to make me melt does absolutely nothing for me now. Taking in his arrogant strides toward the bar, I’m affirmed that there’s nothing left in my heart tethering me to him. Some good memories, but a lot more bad ones, especially the way he made me feel about myself.
In three years, Trent never made me feel as valued or cared for as Michael has in a matter of mere weeks. He may go all alpha on me, but I’ve never feltless thanwith him, always the opposite. With Michael, I feel validated, accepted, and loved. I don’t think Trent knows the meaning of the word cherish. He wanted to control me and mold me to his idea of what a woman should look and act like.
Michael isn’t interested in changing me; he wants me exactly the way I am.
I’ve been more open and vulnerable with him than I have with anyone else, Michael desires me and loves me,allthe parts of me. At least that’s how he makes me feel. Even if we ended tomorrow, I could never go back to being treated with less care than what he has given me. He has shown me what unconditional love looks like, and that means even more coming from a man whom I wholeheartedly respect and admire. He never lets me forget my worth, encourages me without fail, and is hellbent on making my life better. He’s honest, loyal, and hot as fuck to boot.
How I ever let myself become downtrodden for so long and allowed someone in my life who brought me down instead of lifted me up I’ll never know. Nobody deserves that kind of relationship and dare call it “love,” not when I’ve experienced what love is really supposed to look like. I could never go back to that draining existence. And I really hope Trent isn’t here to try to convince me otherwise. Now he’s just an annoyance, like another unhappy customer to be dealt with.
“What do you want, Trent?” He doesn't deserve any pleasantries.
“Hello to you too, Vivian,” he drawls, draping his arm right next to mine on the bar where I’m working on the inventory books. He’s standing way too close for my comfort, and I slide my clipboard farther down the bar, putting a couple barstools between us. “Aww, don’t you miss me yet? You normally would have come crawling back to me by now,” he sneers, undeterred by my snort of disgust. The nerve of this man-child.
“You should crawl your way on out the door, Trent. Your side chick is probably waiting for you.”
“She didn’t really mean anything to me, Vivian. Not like you.” Okay, time to shut this down. If he thinks I’m merely jealous, we’ll be here all night. And I’ve got a fiancé to go home to. If I tell him I’m seeing someone else, he’s still going to think he has achance, that I’ll return to him, like I did time and time again. But those times are over now, for good.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Trent. You don’t mean anything to me anymore either.” I stare him directly in the eyes.
“Really, Viv? After all that we’ve been through? C’mon, you don’t really mean that.” He scoffs, but his voice raises, anger getting the better of him. “You’ve always come back to me. Always! And I’ve always taken you back when you were done playing around with your latest toy. The one time I mess around, you drop me? Way to double standard.”
Dude just isn’t getting it. He thinks it’s jealousy that’s keeping me away. The skepticism on my face must be apparent because his voice softens as he tries another tactic.
“Doesn’t matter. We love each other. We are always going to end up together; we always do. You know it and I know it.”
I sit back on the barstool and sigh loudly. I’m done with this. I’vebeendone with this. What do I have to say to get him to leave?
“You know, the one thing I regret most is that it took me so damn long to figure out that this isn’t right for me. Thatyouaren’t right for me,” I tell him, exasperation taking over my voice.
“Oh,” he says with a snarl, “you mean you had to go fuck a million guys but you always came back to this dick?” He grabs himself, and I shudder in revulsion. How did I ever find him attractive? But apparently he doesn’t know how to read my body language as well as he used to. “You miss this, don’t you, Viv? Who else is going to want you after all the guys you’ve had? When you’re having a bad ‘fibro day.’” He air quotes and my face flames. “And can barely function?”
I can handle him thinking I’m a slut but the fibromyalgia reference stings. Because there are more days than I care to admit that I’m afraid it’s going to take over my life. But seeinghow patient Michael is with his mother, and how tenderly he takes care of me when I’m hurting gives me hope. I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t have to justify the pain. All it takes is one look and Michael is there to help in whatever ways he can. It makes me feel like I don’t have to face the bad days alone.
Not anymore.
“Back off, asshole, and leave me the fuck alone,“ I hiss at him, thankful that our remaining customers are in the dining room and not the bar area. Last thing Claire needs is a dramatic scene and someone to call the cops.
“Admit it, Viv, you’re not going to find anyone better than me.” Trent pushes the bar stools out of the way as he comes closer and the stench of cigarettes and whiskey hits me full on. Coughing, my eyes squeeze shut as I turn my head away in search of clean air.
That’s when I hear a low voice growl in warning, “She already has, asshole.” The voice sounds a lot like Michael’s, but far more cold and deadly than I’ve ever heard from him before. A sharp grunt pierces the air, and my eyes fly open to see Michael’s hand roughly pulling Trent’s arm and twisting it behind his back. “The only thingyouneed to know,” Michael says in a menacing tone, “is that you’re leaving right now if you want to keep all your limbs in good working order.”
“Who the fuck is this?” Trent sputters, splitting his glances between Michael and me. Sweat beads on his forehead as he winces. Michael must be tightening his grip, and his eyes flash in warning as he leans in closer, inches away from Trent’s panicked face.
“I’m her husband, asshole. And I believe she told you to leave.” Trent’s eyes go wide, either from pain or shock. It would be almost comical if I wasn’t stumbling on Michael’s words.
I’m her husband.
