Wesley kept himself from looking back as he wove around the dinner tables and made a beeline for the exit. The thick, smoky air stuck to his lungs like glue and he wanted nothing more than to get some fresh air and clear his brain. He couldn’t stand there and look anymore at Katherine, couldn’t look into those hurt green eyes.
He had had to do it. Had to tell her he wouldn’t bother her anymore. It was the right thing to do; she was in love with Johnny and he needed to place her needs above his own. Why did doing the right thing always hurt so bad? He felt lousy, couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so crappy. Maybe back in high school sometime . . . no, he was the popular dude in high school. Whatever.
The host who stood guard at the door was surprised to see him go. “Leaving so soon?” he asked in his faint French accent. “It’s barely midnight.”
Grant shoved a wad of bills into the man’s surprised hand. “For my table. Don’t let anyone else pay it.”
Outside, he inhaled a deep breath of the cool night air. Finally, no more claustrophobia. No more jostling people and heavy smoke. No more Kate next to him . . . He looked back again at the bright lights of the restaurant, the teeming combination of lights and energy in the black night. He would still see her around, he told himself. But he wanted some time first before he saw her again with Johnny, hanging onto his arm, smiling up at him, kissing him . . .
Why was he not as upset before when they’d separated? He thought he was in love with her then, but this feeling was new; it was a different ache. It was like he’d been beaten, gotten the wind knocked out of him; there was nothing more for him to do. Maybe he should leave town.