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It hits me square in the chest.

Jagger's breath turns ragged. His jaw tightens, and he keeps his gaze pinned on mine, full of fire.

Mason clears his throat.

Carla's glare snaps toward him. "Don't!"

"I was just gonna ask if I could sit down."

"No."

"See?" Jagger gestures toward Mason. "That means you don't get what you want."

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," Mason mutters.

Carla almost smiles.

Another familiar voice cuts through the music. "Well, look who finally came back to town."

Carla stiffens.

Troy steps forward. A voluptuous, drunk, twenty-something, dirty blonde in tight brown leather pants with plenty to grab onto from the backside is holding onto his arm. Half of her ample breasts pop out of her orange midriff top. She's holding something green. He's holding a beer and wearing the same easy grin I remember from New Year's Eve.

He's part of the reason we're fighting.

"You," I snap.

His eyes narrow. "What's the bitchy tone for? Got something you want to say to me?"

Jagger moves beside me. "What did you just say?"

Troy looks between us. "What's her problem?"

“You.”

"I don't even know who this girl is," he claims.

"She's my girl. That's who she is," he protectively roars.

My heart soars even though we're not in a good place.

"Jagger!" The drunk girl shouts, like she just realized who he was. She gets a burst of energy, tosses the green thing in the air, and throws herself at Jagger. She pins her bloodshot blue eyes on him and slurs, "Mistletoe!" while trying to kiss him.

He turns his head, dodging her lips, and catches her by the shoulders before she can face-plant into his chest.

"Whoa. Absolutely not."

She giggles and tries again. "But it's mistletoe."

"Not interested, Megan," he firmly states.

"You were interested a couple weeks ago. Don't you remember how much fun we had at your place?" she whines.

My gut flips so fast, I get nauseous. I put my hand over my mouth and swallow down bile.

Jagger's entire expression changes. He pushes her into Troy and locks his gaze into mine. "Lainey."

I shake my head. Logically, I know he didn't do anything wrong. We weren't together. Hell, as far as Jagger knew, I was some woman he spent one night with almost a year ago who never bothered to wait for him to come back. None of the facts stop the image from forming in my head: Megan in the same bed we created Charlie in, and Jagger touching her the way he touches me.