Page 20 of Forgiveness

Her eyes grow narrow. “A vodka soda. That’s what I’ve ordered every single time we’ve hung out.”

“Ah, yes. Now I remember.”

No, I don’t. She’s one of probably fifty women I’ve met at this bar, and based on her still-narrowed eyes, I don’t think she bought that her drink was on the tip of my tongue. I’m too weary today to feign sincerity.

God, I wish it were possible to care about her favorite drink. I wish I could find a woman who is just a little bit special to me.

This is the problem with rage. I don’t see people when I arrange these little meetups. I see weapons.

It’s always been you.

I can delight in those words when I’m fucking other women.

“So you said you had a bad day.” Casey’s gaze drifts from the top of my head to my chest, as if looking for physical evidence of my bad day on my body. “What happened?”

I smirk. “A celebrity came to see me, and I punched him in the face.”

“Oh, did you?” Her tone is playful. Of course, she assumes I’m teasing. “Who was the celebrity?”

“Camden…” I narrow my eyes as I search for his last name. “Hayes, I think. He’s a musician.”

Her mouth drops open. “Are you being serious?”

“Of course.” I keep my tone light. “He threatened me, so I punched him in the face.”

She stares at me silently. “I seriously can’t tell if this is a joke or not.”

I smile lazily. “I’m teasing. He did come to the office today, though, and I got to meet him.”

“Are you friends now?” She cocks a brow. “Could you give him my number?”

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “Do you want to come over here so I can spank you?”

She giggles. “You said you had a bad day. Meeting Camden Hayes doesn’t sound bad to me. What happened?”

Jason, I’ve thought about you every day for the last six years.

That bubbling rage rises to the surface. It’s always a bad day when you love a woman like Whitney Walker.

I lean forward. “What if I just made it up because I wanted to see you?”

No, not you, Casey. Anyone at all. Anyone who will let me fuck the rage out of my system.

“I’d be okay with that.” She smiles slowly. “Did you book a hotel?”

“I did. The Ritz-Carlton.”

And I’m going to fuck her real sweet. Call her my darling girl.

Even in the moments when I’ve been happiest with Mark…

I’m going to imagine my whore of a wife watching us.

Casey’s mouth drops open. “The Ritz! So fancy.”

I smile at her. It’s actually quite a bit less “fancy” than the hotel I generally book for these rendezvous, but words like “ritz” sound expensive to young people like Casey.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks.

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