Page 122

Megan pouts. "You said we should do it again."

"Jesus Christ," Jagger mutters.

I grab my purse from the booth and rise. "I need some air."

"Lainey, wait," Jagger calls after me.

"I'm not mad at you," I lie.

He catches my wrist before I can get past him, then immediately loosens his grip. "Could've fooled me."

"I said I'm not mad."

"You look like you're about to throw up."

I scoff, "Because I might. So let me go."

"You look really sick," he frets, peering closer.

"Yep. I'm eight weeks postpartum, exhausted, hormonal, and apparently hearing about women you slept with makes me nauseous. Pick one."

Megan pipes up, "We didn't sleep much."

Oh my God.

"Megan, stop being a total drunk bitch!" Carla orders.

"I'm leaving." I push past him.

He follows me through the bar and out the front door. Cold air hits my face, and I inhale deeply, grateful for the sting in my lungs.

"Lainey."

I keep walking.

His boots crunch through the thin layer of snow behind me. "Would you stop?"

"I told you I need a minute."

"And I'm trying to explain."

"There's nothing to explain!" I spin toward him. "You were single. You thought I disappeared on you. You had every right to sleep with whoever you wanted."

"Then why are you running away from me?"

"Because I don't want to picture it! Do you want to picture me with someone else?"

His jaw twitches. "Were there others?"

"Are you serious right now?" I snarl.

"Just tell me."

"No, Jagger. I wasn't out fucking other dudes while I was knocked up with your baby!" I cry out.

He releases a relieved breath.

"You're unbelievable, Jagger! I'm standing here trying not to lose my mind over another woman, and you're relieved I didn't have another man?"