Page 22 of Bitter Lies

Sasha knew him too. As soon as they walked away, she made a point to tell me who he was. The background check my team ran before allowing me to come to Bailamos gave them all the information they needed to ensure I stay safe.

No one warned me. Thought to mention that we might see the man accompanying Mr. Doyle. The man who takes up more space in my head than he should.

He’s in this same building. Like the universe is determined to test just how insane I’m willing to be. Because even with every red flag slapping me in the face, I’m drawn to him. It makes no damn sense.

And the worst part is… I don’t think I care.

What does that say about me?

Deep down, I know I should leave. That staying is a lousy idea for more reasons than I care to admit.

And yet… here I sit. Waiting. As if after his meeting he’ll be back and do unspeakable things to me, even though he never promised he’d return.

It’s been over an hour since he stormed off the moment our dates arrived. For all I know, he’s taken care of the business that brought him here and left without a second thought. Not once thinking of me or my buzzing lady bits.

I hate him right now.

“Want to get back out there?” Quentin Drake, my former fuck buddy, slides into the booth next to me. “I’m glad you called while in London.”

As I’m finishing my third martini, my lips around the straw, I catch how his eyes focus on them. He’s been obsessed with them all night.

Damn, I’m about to be that bitch who ruins his plans for us later.

When I rang him, my intentions mirrored what I’m almost certain he has in mind. But that changed the moment Aiden strolled up to our table.

I could tell him the truth. You were my first choice until someone I want more popped in. Now you just won’t do.

But that would be cruel, and I’m not out to hurt his feelings. So, I go with a little white lie.

“Me too. It’s been fun. But then my aunt decides to drop in for a surprise visit.” Guilt washes over me, but what choice do I have?

“Oh. Does that mean you have to leave to go hang out with her?” The disappointment and confusion on his face forces me to try again.

“No. Not that kind of aunt.” By the way he scrunches up his nose, it’s clear he’s not catching on. “You know, my Aunt Flow. She visits once a month. Makes me irritable and a bloody mess—literally.”

A bright red flush spreads across his cheeks as he downs his pint. “You mean…? That’s a… creative way to tell someone. I’ve never heard anyone refer to that as Aunt Flow before.”

It’s clear he’s uncomfortable discussing this, squirming in his chair. Most British men avoid the subject, which only makes me push it. He’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake. This should not bother him as much as it does.

Stirring my drink with the straw, I try not to giggle. “My sister-in-law is American. She raised me, and I’ve picked up on her innuendos. It’s a nicer way of saying it without flat-out saying it. And I don’t fancy having sex while dealing with her.”

He closes his eyes, ready to end this conversation, and says, “Same.”

When he reopens them, he scans the club, tapping out the beat on the table. “I think I’ll go dance some more, unless you’d rather I stay and keep you company.”

“I don’t mind. Go have fun.” I take a few sips of my drink, feeling guilty about misleading him. “Maybe you’ll find someone who’s into you. It’s not like we’re a couple. Just two friends who’ve done the favor of taking the edge off, right? One of us should get lucky tonight.”

If he finds someone to get sweaty with, it’ll make this a lot less awkward

“You sure?” His eyes study me, like he’s waiting for me to take it back.

But I don’t, I keep sipping on my drink while the air shifts to uncomfortable.

“I’ve always liked you, Izzy. If things had lined up differently, I’d have pushed harder to make this work.” He picks at the corner of my cocktail napkin, and something about him feels off. “Planned on sharing this later, but I guess I’ll just tell you now. I’m moving to the States. Got a fellowship I couldn’t turn down. So even if I wanted more, it’s not in the cards. Not yet, at least.”

That’s sweet. I should be flattered. I’m not, because Quentin was never more than just a fun time. He’s not someone I see myself with long-term. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

“That’s exciting. Once I get through this year, I’ll likely head back to Hermosa Islas and find a surgical program to join, study there until I’m ready to venture out on my own. My dream is to travel the world, helping people who can’t afford the surgeries they need. It breaks my heart knowing there are kids suffering from things that could so easily be fixed.” I could go on and on about this all night, but tonight isn’t the time to get into that. I just wanted him to understand that my dreams and his aren’t the same.