I took a slow breath, trying to push my emotions down. "What if I could help you?"
Daniel blinked, shocked by my words, before—disgustingly—he laughed.
"Help me?" he scoffed. "Tracie, this isn’t some little problem. Do you have any idea what this really means? This is beyond anything you can fix. You don’t have the resources. You don’t have anything."
His words felt like a slap in the face, but I refused to let him see my hurt. I shrugged, forcing a cold, indifferent smile. "Fine, Daniel. Do what you have to do."
Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, lost in his own mess.
The bar was dimly lit, the low murmur of conversations blending with the clink of glasses. I sank into a corner booth, nursing my drink, trying to numb the ache in my chest.
How had I let it get to this point? How had I given so much to someone so blind, so self-centered?
I swirled the ice in my glass, the soft clinking filling the silence. The betrayal. The lies. The years I had wasted with him... Then, my phone buzzed.
Expecting nothing more than a message or spam, I checked it—and my grip on the glass tightened.
A wedding invitation.
From Ginger Massey.