“I knew you had to be in a fucked-up place right now, and as you weren’t at your office or the hotel, I thought I’d check Reilly’s before driving to Malibu. Glad you were here though ’cause I don’t enjoy driving in traffic. But I didn’t want you to be alone. Thought you might need to talk.”

“I don’t need to talk. And I really fucking want to be alone.”

“Yeah, you might think that, but I know you, and you being alone right now isn’t the best idea. You definitely need to talk because I know exactly how you’re spinning this shit in your head. So, let’s talk.” He turns in his seat to face me.

Moving my hand from my head, I flick a look at him. Then, I pick my vodka up and drain the glass. Pushing the glass down the bar, I get the fresh vodka Max ordered for me, and I down that as well. I lift a hand to the barman, signaling for another.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Max,” I say when I realize he’s not going anywhere.

“Sure there isn’t. You find out that your mother fucked you over in the worst possible way, and now, it’s just plain sailing and daisies.”

I ignore him, staring straight ahead.

“Evie’s hurting, Adam, just as badly as you are.”

“I don’t care if she’s hurting,” I snap.

I don’t mean that. It kills me. It’s all killing me.

“She should have told me the truth.” My fingers curl around the empty glass.

“Come on, you’re not being fair.”

“Not being fair? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Just hear me out.” He holds his hands up. “How could she tell you? If she told you, then she’d lose that chance to save her sister’s life. She was eighteen years old and faced with an impossible choice. If that were me and you needed a treatment that could possibly save your life, I would have chosen you without a second thought. Nothing would have been more important than saving the life of my brother—because that’s what you are to me, Adam. You’re my brother.

“And Casey was just a kid, a kid who was dying. You know how much Evie loves her. She was working her fingers to the bone to help pay for her medical bills. If Casey had died, Evie would have blamed herself. And Ava clearly knew that, and she used it to her advantage. We know the kind of people Ava is. Evie doesn’t. She didn’t stand a chance against Ava. Neither of you did really. The instant Ava decided she wanted Evie gone, there was only ever one outcome, and it was the one that happened The only good thing that came out of Ava’s fucked-up-ness, doing this to you and Evie, was saving that kid’s life.

“You’re laying the blame for this at the feet of two people when it should be only one. Evie was just as innocent as you were in this. You need to stop punishing her. Either forgive and take her back, or let her go once and for all.”

“I have let her go.”

“No, you haven’t.” He shakes his head at me. “You don’t know how to. You haven’t been able to for the last ten years, and you sure as shit can’t now. So, you either stay here and mope like a little bitch, or you go find Evie and talk to her.”

I stare at him, a pain in my chest so severe, it feels like my heart is failing. “I can’t forgive her.” I shake my head. “She should have told me the truth the second she came back. She didn’t. And I can’t forgive her for that.”

“Yeah, she should have. But put yourself in her place. She was a kid when it happened. She’s held on to that shit for ten years. Then, she gets back, and you’re here. She was afraid to lose you again. She might have left, but she lost you as well.”

“That you talking or her?”

“Me.”

“You on her side or something?” I snap.

I snap because I hear the truth in his words, but I don’t want to accept them.

I want to feel angry. If I don’t have my anger, then I have nothing.

“Stop being a dick, Adam. You know I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. That’s why I’m saying these things. I want you to be happy. And Evie’s your happy.” He finishes his drink and stands.

“You leaving?” I ask in a low voice.

“Yep. Things to do, pussy to see.” He winks.

I watch him walk toward the exit.

My mind races through the words he just said. But I keep looping back to one thing.

Evie’s my happy.

He’s right. I’ve never been happier than when I was with her.

And I’ve spent a really long time being miserable.

I don’t want to be miserable anymore.

“Max?”

He stops opening the door, and looks across at me.

I move my eyes from him, staring straight ahead, unable to look at him while I say, “Evie…is she still at the coffee shop?”

I don’t have to see his face to know the smug bastard is smiling.

“No. She said she was heading home right after I left.” Pause. “You need a ride to her place?”

Swiveling my stool around to face him, I let my feet hit the floor. “Yeah,” I say, finally meeting his smirking eyes. “A ride would be good.”

“Guess my pussy can wait.” He grins. “Come on then, loser. Let’s go get your wife back.”

“So, I’m driving you to Evie’s, but you don’t actually know where she lives.” Max sighs.

“I know which apartment building she lives in, assface. I just don’t know which fucking apartment it is.”

“Well, I guess you could try knocking on every door in her building. Or you could do a John Cusack and stand outside her apartment building with a boom box, playing your song to get her attention. Only problem with that is you don’t have a boom box, so you’d have to play it from your iTunes app on your phone, which isn’t anywhere near as cool, or romantic. And can you even get Bon Jovi on iTunes?” Max grins at me.

“You’re a dick.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

I could do what Max said, play her our song, but I have a much simpler, although less romantic, way of finding out which one is her apartment.

Getting my cell, I dial the number of my divorce lawyer.

“Adam, you must be a mind reader. I was going to call you today,” Harrison says.

That makes me pause. “Why?”

“I got signed divorce papers back from Evie’s lawyer with new terms and a letter from Evie personally. Do you want me to send it over to you?”

“No. Read the letter to me now,” I say, my heart climbing into my throat.

“Okay. One sec. Just let me grab it.”

I hear rustling and then the tearing of paper.

“Right, I got it. Okay, so it says, ‘Adam, I know you said you didn’t want to see me or hear from me again, and I’m not writing this letter to go against that, but with the divorce still in process and how the terms stood with the money, I couldn’t not write to you. I don’t want the money, of course. So, I’m rejecting the terms. I’m not doing that to piss you off or to hang on to you in some vain hope that you’ll find a way to forgive me because I know you won’t. And I understand why. But I also know you want me gone, so I know you’ll accept my terms. My lawyer has redrafted the papers, and I’ve signed them on the terms I originally set—abandonment on my part. I will leave our marriage as I entered it—well, in the financial sense anyway. All you have to do is sign, and then your lawyer will file them. And then I guess that’s it.

“I just want to say I’m sorry one last time. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I let you down. I know my apologies don’t count for anything anymore, but I just needed one more chance to say it.

“And just…be happy, Adam. You, more than anyone, deserve happiness. I’m just sorry it couldn’t be with me. Yours always, Evie.’”

My whole body hurts, like every single one of Evie’s words have cut into me, and I’m bleeding out from the wounds.