Kill deserved to know everything.

About my plan to destroy Arrowsmith.

About Paxton being here.

“The word you are looking for is a husband. My husband does well for himself, yes,” I corrected. “But even more important than his deep pockets, he was kind enough to get me out of the trouble you got me into. Knowing Cillian, he won’t appreciate you being here, so I suggest you get out of here before he does the job Byrne couldn’t finish.”

Paxton snapped his head toward me mid-sip, his eyes bulging.

“Don’t tell me you fell in love with him. That’s such a sap move, Pers. Rich boys don’t have hearts.”

“Neither do poor ones from Southie, apparently.”

He collapsed onto a barstool, groaning as he scrubbed his face.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the man you deserve, babe. But I needed a way out. I knew you were going to get us out of trouble. I couldn’t keep in touch while you were working on getting us out of this, but I stood on the sidelines and watched, ready to pounce if they actually did something to you. I always had your back, Pers. I did this to protect you. Protect us.”

The lie was so half-assed, that I felt hysterical laughter bubbling in my throat. He continued, undeterred.

“Our goodbye was temporary. I always planned to come back. You were smart, resourceful, and responsible. I just needed you to do me this little solid. When I saw the article about your marriage to Cillian Fitzpatrick, I wanted to kiss you. I thought, ‘that’s my girl.’ I was beginning to worry Byrne would follow up on his threat to pimp you out. I was about to step in.”

He put a hand to his chest. He looked like a bad soap opera actor. The type to win a Razzie award every year and be arrogant enough to walk the red carpet to accept it.

My blood buzzed. I was on the brink of smashing his nose in with my fist, and I never hurt so much as a fly.

“You knew they were following me?” I gritted out.

He nodded. “I kept an eye on you the entire time. Made sure you were okay. I was worried sick, Pers.”

“I wasn’t okay.”

“You really need to give yourself more credit, babe. You did great.”

“How did you keep tabs on me?” I demanded.

“Friends.”

“Which friends?”

“C’mon.” He waved his hand around as though I was missing the entire point.

“Where were you, Paxton?” I pressed, taking a step toward him.

No part of me was unsure or ambivalent.

No disappointment.

No sorrow.

No pang of that wild heartbreak that tore at me each time Cillian left my bed at night.

All I felt was disgust.

“Here and there,” Paxton sulked, averting his eyes from me to his shoes.

The idiot thought he could waltz into my life and reclaim me.

He mistook my bleeding heart for a dumb brain.

“You either answer my questions or I’m calling security.” I raised my phone in the air.

He shot me a tired smile.

“How’d you think I ended up here? The security in this place is trash.”

“In that case”—I swiped my finger over my phone’s screen—“I’ll call my husband. Don’t let his rich-boy reputation confuse you. He is very good with his hands, beyond just making me come.”

Paxton’s jaw constricted, his eyes darkening.

“Don’t,” he bit out. “Fine. Whatever, Persy. You wanna play? I’m game. What do you wanna know?”

“Who told you about Byrne and Kaminski following me?”

“Mitch.” Mitch was the guy he was paired with by Byrne for assignments. “He was still hustling for Colin a few months after I bailed. Still shoots the shit with Kaminski every now and again.”

“Where were you all this time?”

“Costa Rica was my first stop. The day word got out that Byrne knew I blew all our savings and couldn’t pay him back, I bought a one-way ticket. I laid low there. Worked in construction. Saved up whatever I could. At first, I’d hoped I could come up with half the money, then pay the rest in Boston. I always wanted it to work between us, Persy. I just knew keeping in touch with you was going to put you in a whole lotta risk. Then the news of you marrying Fitzpatrick broke the fucking internet. There were memes about it, dude. I picked up the phone and called Mitch. Asked if it was true. He told me your husband made sure Kaminski could never take a piss standing up again he trashed him so bad. Byrne wasn’t doing so hot, either. I realized I was probably next on your husband’s shit list. That he was going to unleash Sam Brennan on me. Brennan has eyes and ears everywhere, so I moved up to Mexico. Cancun. Stayed with a friend.”

“A friend?” I asked with a snort. The only piece of information to make my heart stutter was Cillian beating up Kaminski. I had no idea he did that.

“A chick from high school. She’s running a spring break resort there. It was always crowded, lots of people moving in and out. I knew Brennan would have a bitch of a time catching me there. I cleaned her pool.”

“Platonically, I assume.” I rolled my eyes. He was such a cliché.

He laughed humorlessly.

“Please, Pers. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been sucking Fitzpatrick’s cock every night the better half of this year. We both did what we had to do in order to survive.”

“In my case, I enjoyed the task immensely,” I lamented. “You haven’t even picked up the phone to check in on your grandmother.”

I knew because I asked at the nursing home if they’d heard from him each time I visited.

Paxton flopped his cheek over his fist, sighing.

“I knew you would take care of her. I’d trust you with my own life. You always do the right thing. Listen, we’re out of the woods now. Mitch told me the debt has been paid. Byrne’s out of the picture. We can be together, Persy. Start over fresh. Pick up where we left off. He didn’t make you sign a prenup, right?”

My ex-husband wasn’t only insane, he was also as dumb as a shoestring. I tried to remember what I saw in him in the first place, beyond his Instagram model looks. The answer was clear as it was embarrassing—he was the designated rebound. The antidote to Cillian’s refusal. The untried vaccine that ended up nearly killing me.

“We’re happily divorced. I married someone else.” I erected my wedding finger, an engagement ring with a diamond the size of his face sparkling back at him.