Page 126 of The Space Between Heartbeats
I hate that I’m here. That this is in front of my face. I hate that my feet refuse to move.
Then he slides the ring onto her finger and their table erupts with hugs and tears and everyone reaching for their wine glasses.
“Here you go.” The vodka cranberry appears on the bar in front of me. I look at it for a moment before picking it up with a shaky hand and downing half of it in one long gulp.
I will not cry here. No. I refuse to give in to it.
I take another sip and keep watching like the masochist I apparently am. Knox stands, adjusting the tie I fucking tied on him less than an hour ago, and Ella launches herself into his arms. She’s crying and laughing at the same time the way people do in movies, and she looks genuinely happy, and I hate her for it, and then I hate myself for hating her.
But really I hate him.
I leave without my sandwich. I leave without finishing my drink.
I just leave.
Because if I have to look at Knox Aldrich for one more second, I’ll either scream, cry, or walk over there and burn it all down.
