Page 124 of The Wrong Groom

I open the door and turn away from him, stepping out into the warm evening air. Only once the door has closed behind me do I let my tears fall.

Chapter 40

Gabriel

As soon as the door closes behind Alexis, the foyer is enveloped in a heavy, ringing silence.

My chest is tight, and I close my eyes, trying to ground myself, but it doesn’t work. The sound of the door closing echoes in my head like the reverberations of a gong. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.

With effort, I force myself to move. I can’t just stand here, so I make my way down the hall toward the living room.

I cross the space to the wet bar and pour myself a glass of scotch with shaky hands. The glass clinks against the decanter as I pour, my grip unsteady. I take a sip, but the sharp burn of the liquor doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest like I’d hoped it would.

As I stare into the depths of the glass, I will the scotch inside it to provide answers, clarity, anything to make sense of what I’ve just done. But the silence presses in around me, suffocating.

I stumble over to an armchair and sink into the leather cushions. The room feels cold, lifeless, as though her absence has stripped it of all warmth. I take another sip of the scotch, slower this time, the burn trailing down my throat like a punishment I deserve. Then my eyes flutter shut. My head droops, resting against my hand.

I stay that way—eyes closed, numb—for several moments. Then something tickles my hand, startling me.

It’s Pepper. Peyton’s kitten. Her whiskers brush my skin as she nudges her tiny, pink nose against my fingers. I blink down at her, surprised by the interruption. She meows, her bright eyes peering up at me curiously.

Ever since we gave her more freedom to explore the house, she’s been exploring every nook and cranny. She’s proven herself to be a tenacious little thing. Already, I’ve had to fish her out of my laundry hamper twice. and found her rooting around in the lower kitchen cupboards, which she somehow figured out how to open.

Alexis and I spent some time yesterday cat-proofing the house. We tied the cupboards closed with rubber bands, and she shot one of them at me over the kitchen island, which resulted in a full-blown rubber band war. A truce only settled once we were both out of ammo, whereupon we moved on to other activities that required no less exertion.

It’s hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago, things were so different. Pepper is a walking, breathing reminder of Alexis, and right now, the reminder is less than welcome.

“What do you want?” I mutter.

Pepper jumps up onto my lap in answer. She butts her head against my chest. Her paws knead my pants, claws snagging on the fibers as she prepares herself to settle into my lap.

“Yeah, yeah.” I sigh, letting one hand rest on the kitten’s back. She arches into the contact. I can feel the rumble of her purring as she tucks her paws under her belly, getting comfortable.

My hand moves absently, stroking the kitten’s soft fur. The purring increases in volume. It’s hard to believe that such a huge sound can come from such a small creature.

For a few seconds, the ache in my chest eases. Not gone, but dulled. The room feels slightly less empty than it did before. I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the chair, my other hand hanging limp at my side. My fingers keep moving, though, almost involuntarily, stroking along the sleek line of her spine. The sound of Pepper’s purring fills the room, swelling until it drowns out even the oppressive silence pressing in on me from every corner.

“Don’t get used to this,” I murmur, even though I know she can’t understand me. My hand stills on her back, but she stays, unbothered. “I don’t think I’ll ever be someone you can count on.”

I crack one eye open to look down at the little bundle of fur. To my surprise, she’s staring up at me, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. I get the sense that I’m being judged. It’s ridiculous, I know that. Cats don’t have expressions. And yet, somehow, Pepper’s gaze looks bewildered. And maybe even… accusatory.

I know that’s probably more because I stopped petting her, but I can’t help feeling that she somehow knows what just happened. Her wide eyes seem to say, What’s wrong with you? Why did you chase her away?

I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I already feel bad enough as it is.”

Pepper tilts her head, as if she’s considering my excuse and finding it lacking. Then, with a delicate huff, one I’m sure I’m imagining, she stretches out her front legs, her tiny claws grazing my shirt.

“There was no other way,” I say heavily. I resume stroking the kitten’s head, and her eyes squint as she leans into my touch. “I had to do it.”

It’s true. There really was nothing else for it. But the look on Alexis’s face still lingers at the forefront of my mind. I can’t shake it. Her wide, wounded eyes, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

I run my free hand through my hair, tugging slightly at the roots in frustration. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt her. But wanting and needing are two very different things, and this was the latter. Necessary. Unavoidable.

Wasn’t it?

The thought echoes in my mind, unwanted and unwelcome. I pick up my glass and take another sip of scotch.

I feel like a fucking monster.