After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 15: How Many Seven Years in a Lifetime?

Chapter 15: Chapter 15: How Many Seven Years in a Lifetime?

That emo feeling usually starts to creep in around sunset.

When the sun is gone, so is that spark of upbeat energy.

Moira Sloan was no exception.

When she got home by cab, the place was empty. With no one around, she couldn’t be bothered to keep up the act any longer. She kicked off her heels, walked straight into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed.

There was nothing a good, long sleep couldn’t fix.

And if one couldn’t, then two would do the trick.

Closing her eyes, Moira pressed her lips together, and a tear slid unexpectedly from the corner of her eye.

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t hurting.

Seven years of her youth and passion, her entire heart poured into one person, only for it to end like this. Who wouldn’t be heartbroken?

How many seven-year spans does a person get in a lifetime?

Moira was hurting inside, but she was too proud to ever admit it out loud.

She tossed and turned for a while before finally drifting into a stupor-like sleep.

When she finally woke, dusk had already fallen outside.

She sat on the bed in a daze for a while, raked a hand through her hair, then got up to wash her face. After putting on a full, beautiful face of makeup, she headed out.

The more emo you feel, the more you have to force yourself to be proactive.

Otherwise, that suffocating emotion would drown you alive.

The small town didn’t offer much in the way of nightlife. After wandering around for a while, Moira found a bar tucked away in an unremarkable alley.

She stepped inside on her high heels. The interior was cast in a dim, yellow light, featuring a long wooden bar and neatly arranged wooden tables and chairs. It had the feel of a proper lounge.

Moira walked straight to the bar and sat down. The bartender inside, a man around thirty, glanced at her, then turned to look at the wall clock behind him. He was surprised but remained perfectly composed.

Moira raised an eyebrow. "Not open?"

A smile touched the man’s lips. "We’re open. I’ve just never had a customer this early in all my years of running this bar. My apologies."

Moira gave a playful smile. "No one nursing a broken heart?"

"We do," the man said. "But they usually come in the middle of the night, after they’ve already had a full meal."

Catching his unspoken meaning, Moira nodded. "I get it. Other people have friends to keep them company."

They’ve already had their fill of food and drinks elsewhere, only coming here as their next stop.

By that estimate, the earliest anyone would show up would be after nine o’clock.

Someone like her, who came straight to a bar to drink without even eating first, was likely a first in a small town like Everwood County.

As they were talking, the man mixed a cocktail and slid it in front of Moira. "This one’s on me."

Moira took the drink, a smile playing on her red lips. "You don’t have to. I’ll pay for it myself."

Soft music played in the bar, and Moira chatted casually with the man. Through their conversation, she learned he wasn’t a local and had opened this bar to wait for someone.

Moira’s lips curved into a smile. "A woman?"

The man didn’t deny it. "Yeah."

"How devoted," Moira remarked.

The man asked, "What about you?"

Moira answered in a slow, lilting tone, "Me? I got dumped."

A flash of disbelief crossed the man’s face. "You got dumped?"

A smile spread across Moira’s face. "Surprising?"

"To be honest, no," the man replied truthfully.

Moira was the type of woman whose beauty was striking and flamboyant.

A woman like that could have hordes of men falling over themselves for her with just the crook of a finger. She definitely didn’t seem like the one who would get dumped.

Sensing his thoughts, Moira didn’t say a word. A smile still playing on her lips, she started on her second drink.

After downing three drinks in a row, she began to feel a little dizzy. She was just about to pull out her phone to pay when a message suddenly popped up on the screen.

"That bastard Shane Jennings sent you an invitation."

Reading the message, Moira narrowed her eyes and paid the bill.

As Moira was leaving the little bar, the owner asked if he should call a car for her.

Moira didn’t look back, simply raising a fair arm and giving him a wave.

After leaving the bar, Moira took a few steps down the alley. Just as she was about to emerge, she suddenly saw a familiar figure on the side of the road.

—Connor Quinn, leaning against the wall, cupping his hands to light a cigarette against the wind.