Page 76 of Razor

He has tried to make every second we have together count for something the past two weeks, and it’s only made things worse. It reveals what my life could be with him.

But he won’t give me more. I deserve more. I don’t want to be his whore for the rest of my life without an official stamp on it.

I owe it to my dignity to protect it.

We head into the bar together for the last time, and it’s tearing me up inside. Razor is retreating. He has hardly spoken for the past few days. Grunts mingled with nods are my only response, and it’s killing me inside.

I can’t do this.

A loud cheer goes up when we enter, and I paste a smile on my face, even when inside my heart is breaking.

“Sunday!”

Carla calls me over as I make my way through the bodies of Reapers and my friends who all want to wish me well.

Razor, as always, shadows me. His huge body comforting, his presence reassuring.

“I’ve made your favorite cocktail.”

Carla grins as she hands me a Sunday special, and my eyes fill with grateful tears.

“Hey, no weeping on my watch, honey.”

She grins, several of the girls all holding matching drinks to mine as they raise them in a toast.

Carla says with tears in her eyes.

“To Sunday. We will miss her radiant smile, her easy-going nature, and the way she always had a ready ear and wise words of advice. We will miss her skills behind the bar, and this place sure won’t be the same without her. To Sunday. The best friend any woman here could wish for.”

As they all raise their glasses, I can’t stop the tears from falling. My heart is breaking. I really mean that, and I sip my drink as a distraction more than through desire.

Carla points to a gift-wrapped box on the counter and wipes her tears away.

“This is from all of us. We had a collection and we really hope you will remember us, honey.”

My fingers shake as I untie the ribbon and as I ease off the wrapping, my tears fall faster when I lift the heavy Reaper jacket out of the box, my name patched over the Reaper badge.

There is an envelope inside, and as I open it, a gift certificate for my favorite store reveals I could afford to buy the entire store if I wished.

“I don’t know what to say.”

I’m openly bawling my eyes out now, along with several of my friends because this is way too much.

Carla sniffs, “We’ll miss you, honey, so much it hurts. Please come and visit us soon.”

“I will.”

I’m not sure if anybody here, including me, really believes that, and as a strong arm grips my shoulder, I fall against the one person here I will miss the most.

Sympathetic glances surround me as Razor drops a light kiss on my head and says gruffly, “You okay, darlin’?”

No, I’m not okay. I will never be okay again.

I want to scream at him, pound his chest and kick the motherfucker to hell because this is all his fault. I wouldn’t be leaving now if he would open up. He can’t hide his emotions from me. I see them in his eyes when he doesn’t think I’m watching him. He is as destroyed as I am, but the bastard won’t let me in. This is the only way to preserve my sanity, and so I swallow my anger, my pain, and my smart mouth and merely smile up at him.

“I’m okay.”

His eyes narrow and his expression is grim. His hold tightens as the music starts thumping—my favorite tune, the first one up.