Page 142 of Bitter’s Sweet

Her brows rise. “Oh. So that’s real.”

“No.”

She smiles.

I hate that smile because she hears the lie too.

“Relax. I’m not looking to get scratched up over some woman in pink shoes.”

“She ain’t some woman.”

“Then what is she?”

The question lands too close to Hyde’s.

I pick up my glass and drain it.

Trixie watches me. “You look like somebody kicked your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You want me to go?”

“Yes.”

She slides off the stool.

Then I hear Sweet laugh somewhere outside.

Faint.

Not happy exactly.

But hers.

My entire body reacts before my brain does.

Trixie notices.

“So much for simple.”

I grip the empty glass.

Sweet trusted me.

Then I chose the club.

She looked at me like I had become one more man who took her choices because he thought his reasons mattered more.

Maybe she is right.

Maybe that is all I am.

Maybe the kindest thing I can do now is make sure she stops looking for something better underneath.