Beau winces. “I know. I wish it were possible to go back in time and change things. To tell her right from the start that I wasn’t interested.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Honest truth? I was mad. It’s definitely not your fault, but you’d been verbally slapping at me, and I wasn’t handling it very well. I had more to drink that night than I think anyone realized—like half a bottle of vodka—and before I knew it, we were in the theater room.” He sighs. “You know the rest.”
“I do. I’ve never asked this, but does she know I was there? That I saw?”
“I don’t know. I can’t even remember what I said to her after you left.”
I press my lips together. “It’s all good.”
“Uh, no. It’s not. You shouldn’t have to deal with her. The list of bullshit she’s done is really starting to add up. She’s off her damn rocker if she thinks she can fuck with you and get away with it.”