“We need to talk.” There’s a too-happy smile in the sound of her whine. “It’s important.”
I’d bet my balls it’s not. It never is. “D’lilah.” I lower my voice. “You’re drunk. My guess is whatever you have to say isn’t all that important, but if it is, then you call me when you’re in a state to remember this conversation. Not gonna waste my time saying shit I’ll have to repeat tomorrow.”
The tinkling of ice in a glass and the slurp and smack of her lips sound in my ear. “The twins’ birthday is coming up.”
Typical. She always goes for the direct hit. “Point?”
“My point, dear husband—”
“Ex.”
“Right. We need to throw Ryder some kind of party.” More tinkling of ice.
“He’s a little old for a party. He wants to hang with his friends and buy cigarettes on his eighteenth birthday like all the other eighteen-year-olds.”
“He smokes?”
I’m too damn tired of her mother-of-the-year-act to even roll my eyes at her attempt. “It’s fight night, ’Li. Gotta run.”
“Wait, but . . .”
I wait. Nothing.
My thumb hovers over the end button. “We done?”
“For now.” The call disconnects.
Ryder’s birthday coming up must be triggering her drinking. The weeks she’s not boozing I barely hear from her at all, but this last week alone she’s called nearly every day. I can’t be mad at her for the woman she’s become; after all, it was me who did this to her. After promising her the world, my brain blew up and took all my promises with it. Her addiction dulls the pain of all she’d lost. And then after Rosie . . . I tried to fix things between us, but some things aren’t fixable. Or forgivable.
I push aside the past and focus on the now. I’ve got my first fight as CEO of the UFL. Biggest ticket the organization has seen in years and one step closer to getting back into the octagon.
The final step to finding my way back to the man I was: a man who never gives up and never falls.
Two
Eve
I’m in my element. The air around me vibrates with music, raising goose bumps on my skin, while the steady buzz of liquor in my veins moves me to the beat. The musky scent of bodies, booze, and sweet perfume dances in the air. I keep my eyes closed and drown in the presence of bodies and the occasional wandering hands, but my mind is focused on the beat. There could be six hundred people on the dance floor, and it wouldn’t matter. Right now it’s just the music and me.
I remind myself to thank Raven for inviting me to this party. Although there’s no live band, the DJ seems to have a direct link to my brain because he’s spinning all my favorite songs. Since Blake and Rex won their fights, the guys are all smiles and shoulder punches, quite the opposite of what I’m used to seeing at the lesbian bars where everyone is pissed about something. Come to think of it, they do a fair amount of shoulder punching as well.
With a swirl of my hips, I toss my hair and grin at the freedom of dance. Yeah, I definitely needed this tonight. Two strong hands lock my hips in place. I roll my eyes at the familiar feeling of some douchebag as he grinds his tiny hard-on against my ass. Poor guy. If that’s his calling card, he’s in for a long line of rejections.
I swerve and turn to move out of his hands, but he doesn’t release his grip. Asshole. Just as I’m about to grab his fingers and bend them backwards, he lets me go and steps back with such force that I stumble forward and right into a brick wall of muscle.
“What the fu—oh hey, Jonah.”
His only response is a glare directed over my head. I turn around and see who I assume is Mr. Short-Distance-calling-card frozen wide-eyed, staring at my bodyguard. A slow shake of Jonah’s head sends the message, and the guy slinks back into the swarm of dancing bodies.
I mouth “thank you” to Jonah, and he grabs my arm and ushers me off the dance floor, depositing me into a seat next to Raven.
She leans into me. “Having fun?” One eyebrow lifts as she dares me to say no.
No way am I giving her the satisfaction. I rock into her shoulder and search the surrounding tables for my drink. I could’ve sworn I set it here when I went dancing. Trying to place myself, I whirl around and—ah-ha! My drink was moved to the table behind me. Warmer and a little watered down, the sweet liquid is refreshing against my dance-parched lips.
Raven yawns. “I think we’re going to take off.”
“What? Why? It’s only . . .” I do a booty tilt and pull my phone from my back pocket. “Eleven-thirty.”
“I’m a pregnant lady in a nightclub, Eve.”
I shrug. “Eh . . . good point.”
“You ready?”
This is the first time in a long time that I’ve had fun at a club. I’m not ready for it to end. “Nah, you guys go ahead. It’s a cheap cab back to my place.”