Michael's POV
I gripped my fork until my knuckles turned white, watching the scene unfold across from me like some twisted nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
Reagan leaned into Allyson, his mouth inches from her ear as he whispered something that made her lips curve into a smile. That same damn smile she used to give me. The one that used to make my chest tight with something that wasn't anger.
Now it just made me want to flip this entire table.
Twenty-four hours. That's all I'd given her to come clean to Reagan about what happened between us. Twenty-four hours to stop this charade.
But here she sat, playing the perfect girlfriend. Touching his arm. Laughing at his jokes. Acting like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Like she hadn't been writhing underneath me just nights ago.
The fury crawling up my spine was about to break through my skin. She caught my stare once, those green eyes flicking to mine before darting away like I was nothing more than furniture.
