Page 153 of Three Irish Kings

I huff out a breath and take Liam’s half-empty beer glass from him, handing it to the redhead who beams at me and takes it back to the bar.

“You should have already cut him off; you know he doesn’t drink.”

“I’m fine,” Liam says; this time he does sound a bit clearer, but it’s momentary.

He’s absolutely blasted. He won’t remember anything after Isla’s confession, I bet.

And thank God. He’s been so drunk and maudlin he’s told us all about how he feels about Isla, how she’s the only woman he’s ever felt this way for.

Liam would haveneveradmitted that without the booze.

“Of course, I’ll be good to her. But you could be good to her, too, Liam.” Cillian’s nicer than I am. I’d be gloating if Isla chose me.

I hate him.

“What happened between you and Isla while you were up there alone?” I’m belligerent, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I blame it on the booze and anger. “Did you fuck her?”

“Don’t. You’ll upset him,” Liam says weakly, and Cillian glares at me with his freakishly light eyes.

I scoff. “You’re talking about him like he’s a baby instead of a grown man.”

“I didn’t fuck her,” Cillian says, and Liam sighs, shoulders sagging, slamming his head down on the table.

I groan and move him upright again.

Liam leans against Cillian, shifting in his seat.

Cillian, the bastard, claps him on the shoulder like they’re best friends instead of rivals.

I guess Liam’s given up, so they’re friends again.

I guess I should give up, too.

Isla isn’t who I thought she was, clearly.

“I’m gonna get some air.”

I head outside of the bar, and the hot, humid summer air hits me in the face.

Wiping my brow, I look back toward the bar, seeing that Liam and Cillian aren’t following. Good.

Walking around the side of the building and into the lobby, I stalk toward the staircase.

I’m going to see Isla. We’re going to talk this out. If she’s really chosen Cill, I need to hear it from her. It’s the fucking least she can do.

And what if that’s my baby? I’ll be damned if I stand by and watch another man raise it, even if he is my best friend.

She can’t keep playing us against each other forever, and I’m going to let her have it.

Or maybe I’ll tell her I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll tell her I was wrong, that I love her anyway, because goddamn it, I do. Maybe I’ll make love to her, and maybe it'll be the last time, but it’ll be worth it.

Or maybe I’m still too angry, and I’ll fuck her up against a wall again. I don’t know.

My head is spinning and not just from the alcohol.

I walk upstairs and open the door.

It’s unlocked but oddly quiet.