She Approved the Split He Fell Apart Novel

135 Getting Drunk

Scarlett’s POV

It won’t work if Ava doesn’t leave Sebastian’s side, which is the most cases. Betting on my luck, I sneak to the edge of the staircase, peeking out without exposing myself.

The lobby has only the chandelier on, dim mode. The faint yellow light cast an ambiguous spell on the crowd, and the air smells sexy. With the help of alcohol, it’s like everyone’s reason has been taken a bite from, and they are all now shaking their heads at the music, laughing and occasionally touching their bodies,

The party is well–done now.

In a light dress, I don’t stand out at all. Unlike Sebastian–

I’m a bit surprised to find him sitting by the bar all alone, a drink in his hand and no Ava. He looks sullen and bored, but lucky for me, he is not leaving. The moment I look over, as if felt something, he suddenly looks up, and his eyes crushes right into mine. Then he smiles. A clean, friendly smile with little intention behind it. Just purely to be friendly.

Just like the day when he saved me.

I suppress my memory, walking down and sneaking to his side. He looks a bit surprised. His phone — my target — on the table right by his hand. He keeps his phone in mute mode, and this way he doesn’t miss any notification.

“Didn’t think you would come out again,” He smiles, genuine happiness shining in his eyes — a smile l don’t usually get–

“How much have you had?” I blurt. Instantly my words seem to freeze his smile. That was not my intention. I need a good, distracting conversation!

“One or two,” Sebastian looks away as if he didn’t understand my indication, snapping his fingers to catch the bartender’s attention, “Want anything? Gin tonic–?”

“Yeah, sure, gin tonic with cucumber,” I order. For you. He is feeling lightheaded, I can tell. I had to go to different bars to take him home during the first year of our marriage, and I have seen all his drunk stages, light to heavy. I need him to be drunk today.

“You have only one drink,” He laughs lightly, tilting his head to search for my eyes, “aren’t you ever curious about the taste of other drinks?”

“Says the man who loved one woman for his whole life–”

Sebastian purses his lips, and I bite mine in frustration.

Tsk! What’s wrong with me?! I don’t know how to have a friendly conversation with him. All conversations we had were fights or me talking with him staying silent. Somehow it got harder to have a good conversation when he reacts to me now.

“–I’m sorry,” I try to start again, “I’m actually here to say thank you. For earlier, when you asked Ava for me. That was nice of you, and I’m grateful.”

I wait, nervously, telling myself to keep a smile even if he says something mean in return. But he doesn’t.

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135 Getting Drunk

He looks at me calmly for a moment as if he has seen through me, then he shakes his head and smiles again: “Any decent man would have done it. You don’t need to thank me.”

His phone lights up, and he looks over as he slips down his chair. He is leaving?!

Without thinking too much, I put my purse over his phone. He darts his black eyes at me, utter surprise written in there.

“You said it’s not polite to look at your phone when talking to people,” I find the first excuse I can find, sitting there straight to indicate that I want to talk.

In the thumping of my heart, he sits back up slowly. He gazes at me for a while, and then he smiles: “You are wrong. I loved two.”

I feel like I saw a shade of bitterness in his eyes, but it could be a mistake under the dim light. Because when he looked up, it was no longer there.

“Remember how I used to get myself drunk? A lot?” He curves his lips, picks up his glass, and finishes it, “I think that was when I fell in love with the second woman I ever loved, and I hated myself for that, and I blamed all that on her.”

“With the first woman being…Ava?” I ask. I have never seen Sebastian like this. I have seen him happy- when he was with Ava; and I have seen him being upset, angry, frustrated, desperate. But not like this. I can’t quite pin it down.

“And the second being you.”

It would have been a touching confession of feelings, if his tone was not this sorrowful. The bartender chose this moment to serve the drink, and taking my chance, I push his phone along with my purse to the side, almost behind me, and then the drink to his hand: “You can try a different taste, too.”

He looks at me sorrowfully before he takes the drink and gulps it down. I take the chance and sneak his phone out, putting it on the chair behind me.

“I’m really sorry,” He mumbles after he puts down the drink, “I’m sorry I couldn’t see my heart clearly sooner. I’m sorry I hurt you because I couldn’t face my own doing.”