Rhett Abbott arrived at The Handsome Gambler

Your phone pings in the darkness, a quiet notification you didn't think you could get anymore.

You picked your phone up, watching as the little dot representing his phone trails deeper into the bar. Two weeks since the breakup, and Rhett was back to it.

What started as a sinking feeling in your gut turned sour. Two weeks. He didn't miss you? Like hell.

Despite having been almost asleep, you dragged yourself out of bed, a new fire lit inside.

If Rhett could go to the bar, so could you.

So you pulled on that outfit you knew he liked and drove into town, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that told you just how bad of an idea this was.

Yeah, it was technically his spot before it was yours, but the location was an open invitation, right? It was getting easier to justify it as you got closer. Maybe just because you were getting angrier at the same time.

Because there you were, standing in the stupid doorway of his stupid bar, watching his stupid face pull into a stupid grin as he stupidly tries to get a girl to dance to a song you know she doesn't know the words to.

God, did that make you mad. Especially when he did a double take to make sure he really was catching you out of the corner of his eye. Caught and vaguely sorry, like he knows he's free to do it but still feels like he's betraying you.