Page 40 of When Forever Falls Apart

“Right. I heard my mother paid you a visit,” Myles states, then adds with a sidelong glance. “She’s still adapting to the changes in my life. Please forgive her behavior.”

“Just remind her that nonsense is not welcome on our premises,” I inform him with a stern tone.

“Noted,” Myles responds, watching me with an air of jealousy.

The guy must think I’m fucking Madelina, and his behavior begins to piss me off. Even if I was, what right does he have to even care since he’s moved on with boring vanilla over here?

“I’m sorry,” Madelina blurts out. “For everything. I should have—”

“It’s done,” Myles cuts her off. “Can’t go back and change things now.”

Beneath the table, I place my hand on Madelina’s thigh and squeeze it gently. The simple move, intended to calm her down, works its charm when I see her focus on me instead. Her green eyes brighten as our eyes lock, and suddenly, the need to keep her protected plays on my mind.

Myles manages to stay amicable, yet his pressed lips and crossed arms indicate he is trying not to voice his opinion on the situation. This is hardly the place for airing grievances. Lara gently nudges him, signaling their departure.

“We really ought to be going. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again. Perhaps at Stella’s wedding?” he mentions with a hint of arrogance.

“You’re g-going?” Madelina’s voice wavers.

The tone of her voice amuses him. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“We’llbe there,” Lara corrects, her hand possessively brushing against Myles’s.

“Goodbye, Maddy.”

As they turn to leave, Myles glances back at Madelina one last time. Beneath his composed exterior, a shadow of pain lurks. It’s not hard to notice, and it doesn’t surprise me. Their relationship didn’t end because he wanted it to, and his pride is what probably stings the most.

Still, this nagging feeling inside of me begs for attention, and I find myself staring at both of them, unsure why my stomach hardened while caught in the middle of this disastrous reunion.

Madelina’s gaze meets his, filled with a longing she quickly buries as she diverts her attention to the server approaching to take another order. A pain spreads across my jaw from my clenched teeth.

“Another margarita,” Madelina orders hastily, then pauses. “Make it a pitcher.”

“One pitcher coming right up,” the server replies, retreating into the hustle of the bar.

I give Madelina a moment to compose herself, watching as she takes a napkin and tears it into tiny, jagged pieces.

“So, you’re still in love with him?” A burning sensation spreads across my chest, making me irritable and impatient.

The pitcher arrives, frosty and glistening with its refreshing mixture of tequila, lime juice, and Cointreau.

Madelina pours herself a full glass and downs it, as if it will wash away her clouds of uncertainty. “What makes you say that?” There’s a sudden resentment in her tone. “I was caught off guard. The last time I saw him was the night before our wedding.”

“Maybe you should pace yourself, Bugs,” I suggest, attempting to lighten the mood.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen here, of all places,” she insists, pouring another glass with barely contained frustration. “I had an entire speech with everything I wanted to say. Instead, I fumbled and made a complete fool of myself.”

“I think,” I say carefully, “that there’s never a perfect time for these kinds of situations.”

Madelina drops her head into her hands, her fingers weaving through her hair as if to pull clarity from the chaos around us. “And now the wedding? You’re telling me I have to attend this lovefest single, all while he’s cozying up with Lisa?”

“It’s Lara,” I correct. “And I don’t think ‘cozying up’ is exactly the right phrasing for what they’re probably up to after tonight’s drinks.”

Her eyes narrow, shooting daggers. “You’re not helping. Do you think it’s easy to see him with someone else? It’s only been a few months, and during that time, I haven’t been with anyone else. The irony is that I’ve been thinking about him pretty much nonstop. How do you like them apples?”

Caught off guard, I pour my own drink and allow the liquid warmth to settle in my stomach before responding. It’s clear Madelina is deeply wounded, though I’m at a loss to understand the source of her hurt, since she chose to walk away from him. Yet the mention of her being celibate piques my curiosity. She’s fucking gorgeous, so it can’t possibly be because she can’t find a man.

Fuck—did I just call her gorgeous?