Page 21 of If He Hadn't Cheated

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I like these nights. There’s room to breathe. Not that many people.

I’m pouring a drink when I feel him. Knox. He’s sitting at the same stool he always chooses now. Like it’s his.

I pretend not to notice. I finish the drink and serve it. I wipe down the counter. I pour another order. I do everything but look at him.

But I feel his eyes.

Eventually, I walk over. “Seriously?” I say.

“I’m just here for a drink.”

“You have a whole city of bars and a black card.”

He grins. “This one has better company.”

I sigh. “What do you want, Knox?”

He shrugs. “To see if you’re okay.”

“I’m working.”

“I noticed.”

He’s drinking soda tonight. No alcohol.

I raise an eyebrow. “Not drinking?”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

I cross my arms. “You just like watching me squirm?”

He places his elbows on the bar and leans forward. “No. I like watching you fight.”

That hits something deep.

He adds, “I see you’re not wearing eyeliner.”

“I ran out.”

“You’re prettier without it.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“Sometimes the truth does that.”

I lean in slightly. “What are you doing here, Knox? Really?”

He looks at me — really looks at me — and says, “I don’t know.”

And somehow, I believe him.

We fall into silence. Comfortable. Tense. Real.

Then he says, “Want to get out of here?”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Just... away from this place. For a little while.”

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