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“Oh shit, no wonder you’re pissed. No one tells the mighty Kieran Callahan what to do.”
“Are you trying to help or just make shit worse?” I bark.
“You need to pull your head out of your ass and talk to her like a normal person.”
I stare blankly at him.
“What?” he asks, reaching for the second beer that’s sitting on the island between us.
“It’s Effie, bro. You need to talk to her. Listen to her. She’s hurting.”
My brows shoot up.
“And how do you know that?” I snap.
“She just lost her grandmother, Kieran. She’s grieving and probably not thinking straight.”
An argument sits on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down.
Brax might be a bit of a joker, but he knows more about grief than I do. I hate that he does, but there isn’t much I can do about that.
Letting out a sigh, I stare down at the container, wishing there was another taco.
“Everything is such a mess,” I finally confess.
“Maybe so, but it’s not unfixable.”
“She lied about us being engaged, and?—”
“Then you allowed the world—and her—to believe it was true for longer than you should have.”
I shake my head before grabbing a napkin and wiping my mouth.
“I shouldn’t have fucked her,” I blurt.
“Maybe,” he muses helpfully.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“What if you were meant to fuck her? What if you should still be fucking her?”
My breath catches in my throat.
Do I want to fuck Effie again? Hell yes.
She was…she was incredible.
Do I think she’ll ever give me a chance? Not for a single second.
Knowing that hurts. Really fucking hurts.
“We had an agreement. Four days only and then we forget it.”
“And have you spoken to her about that?”
“No, she sent me back here after discovering that Kat fucked us over. And she’s ignored me ever since.” I huff. “You already know this shit,” I point out.
“I know, but I’m not entirely sure you know it all.”