Vincent watched her with wide eyes. He could barely believe what was happening; he had to blink several times to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. Ariana had actually raised her voice at him and even worse, she didn’t look remorseful. All she did was strut to her car, flipping her hair dramatically.
He stood where she left him, the noise from the bar bleeding into the street, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He watched Ariana’s back stiffen as she marched toward her car, heels clicking sharply against the pavement like punctuation marks to her anger.
“Ariana,” he called after her, his voice sharper than he intended. “Stop.”
She didn’t.
She unlocked the car and swung the door open with enough force to make it creak. Vincent reached her just in time to block it with his hand.
“Why are
