Page 107 of Pink Ink

A whole minute passes before my equilibrium falls back in line. I push away from the shelf, and even though I’m certain I’m a fall risk, I grip the banister and ease myself down the stairs. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

At the bottom, the only thing I’m more certain about is that my brain is going to detonate. I need to lie down. Pronto. Sleep. Cry. Sleep again. Water would be great too.

Getting to the very last step takes all my focus. So much so that I don’t hear the voices until I stumble into the kitchen to find three people staring at me.

Swallowing, I lean against the doorframe because if I don’t, I’ll be acquainting myself with the floor. I’m sure I look horrific. Based on how the woman is gawking at me, I can only assume that however bad I think I look, the truth is eight times worse.

Spencer turns to a very pissed-off Maddox. He sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. “You had a slumber party and didn’t invite me?” He ignoreshis older brother’s death glare to face me. “Well, it appears introductions are in order—”

“Fuck off.” Steam is practically coming out of Maddox’s ears as he crosses the room to him.

Spencer chuckles, swerving around the counter to put the kitchen island between them. He gestures toward the woman. “I don’t believe you’ve met Abi—”

“I mean it,” Maddox growls out, panicked. “Fuck off right—”

“Maddox’s fiancée,” Spencer finishes.

“You fucking cunt.”

His… She can’t be.

I turn my head slowly and pale when my eyes clash with the woman’s—Abi’s. Her cheeks redden as she offers me a tight-lipped smile. “That’s me.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

My knuckles bleach around the doorframe. This can’t be happening. Any second now they’re going to say sike. They’re going to confess that this is one big joke and that my serial-killing, fuck-buddy professor isnotalso a cheating bastard.

But no one denies it.

No one even tries to suggest it’s something it’s not. Tears sting my eyes. I’m still paying for the events of last night. This bombshell is tipping me over the edge. It hurt less to be thrown against the wall.

“Have a seat.” Maddox approaches me cautiously. “It’s not—”

Thecrackof a slap rings through the air, and his head whips to the side. “You motherfucking piece of shit.”

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer mutters.

I can take grievous bodily harm. Hell, I can even take serial killing.Cheating?That’s where I draw the line.

Tears burn down my cheeks, and I want to throttle Maddox for it. After everything he did—everything hesaid—it turns out that he’s gettingmarried? How is his relationship status not public knowledge? How didn’tIknow? What the hell was the point of last night’s demand if he’sengaged?

He declared his feelings for me a hundred different ways less than twenty-four hours ago. I was considering being with him knowing he killed people as a hobby. Nowthis? It doesn’t matter if I believed a word he said anymore, because the fact of the matter is that he used me. I would’ve never agreed to do the things we did if I had known he was in love with another woman.

I thought we could never be because of our positions, but it turns out it was the difference in relationship status.

He didn’t choose me. He doesn’tcareabout me.

I’m the other woman. The second choice.

The one who gets left behind.

“Rey—”

This time, he wraps me in his arms before I can knee him in the balls.

“Fiancée?Are you fucking kidding me? I trusted you,” I hiss, wrestling an arm free from his hold. Why is he trying to touch me when she’sright there? “You lying, two-timing piece of shit. You—”