Chapter 1278
Chapter 1278:
“If you’re going to drink, do it slowly,” she warned. “I assume you don’t plan on drinking yourself to death p>
Meeting her eyes, Rory gave a bitter smile. He lifted the glass she’d poured and emptied it in one go.
“So what’s weighing on you? Why have you been carrying such a heavy burden these days?” Margo asked, her tone gentle and understanding.
“She’s engaged,” Rory murmured distractedly, his words fading into the noise.
Even though Margo had already guessed it, hearing him say it out loud still stabbed her in the chest.
She wanted to force a teasing smile, but she couldn’t.
“You know,” she said slowly, voice strained, “life has a way of balancing the scales. You once turned me down, and now you finally understand how I felt, don’t you p>
She managed a wry smile, but her heart was aching.
Rory looked at her with an intensity that made her uneasy. Margo quickly looked away and took a nervous sip of wine.
“Love’s misfortunes are nothing,” Rory said, almost mocking himself. “Look at you—so miserable p>
A humorless laugh seemed to pass through him, but the weight of his emotions left him quiet again.
He kept drinking in silence while the bar’s lively music and flashing lights spun around them, turning everything into a frenetic blur. In their dim corner, they felt cut off from the rest of the world.
Suddenly, the sharp ring of Margo’s phone shattered the moment.
It was Dunn calling.
She reached for it out of instinct—but her wrist was abruptly seized.
Startled, she turned to Rory.
“Why?” he demanded, his misty gaze cutting straight through her.
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“Rory?” Margo waved a hand in front of his face, worry tightening her voice. “Are you drunk, Rory p>
“Why shouldn’t it be me, Annabel…” Rory’s voice faded. His eyes dropped, and he slumped dejectedly onto the sofa.
Seeing his distress, Margo’s frown deepened. She reached out to help him up. “You’ve had too much to drink. Let me take you home p>
But Rory didn’t move. Instead, he clung to her so tightly that she nearly toppled onto the sofa with him.
For a moment, Margo almost believed he wasn’t drunk—the seriousness in his expression was too sharp, too focused.
Then he whispered, “Annabel, I like you too p>
The words cut into Margo like a blade. She drew a shaky breath and reached up to pinch his cheek lightly, trying to snap him back. “Rory, I’m not Annabel. I’m Margo. You’re drunk. Sober up already p>
In an instant, Rory caught her hand and pressed it to his cheek with aching affection. “Do you understand how much it hurts to think about your engagement to Rupert?” he asked.