“Emma … I want you to know how much I love you … I mean really love you … There’s no one else in
this world for me. I need you …” He gets up and paces around for a moment, making me feel sick with
worry but relieved that this isn’t a breakup speech. He comes back to his previous position and
swallows hard. “Last night, when I thought you’d done something, after the talk about not wanting to
marry me and pretty much breaking up … It fucked me up in the head.” His eyes are focused on my
hands and I can see they are filled with unshed tears; he can’t look at me. “None of this changes how I
feel about you … I need you to know that I still love you every bit as much as I did, I still want the same
things with you, and I acted like a complete fucking idiot at the airport … I believe you when you text
me that nothing happened. I wish I had the sense to realize it last night, but I was so drunk and jealous,
and I wasn’t rational … bambino I was so goddamn distraught.” He lifts my hands to his mouth rubbing
my knuckles against his face, his stubble scratching at me achingly and kissing them lightly. I hold my
breath. Closing his eyes for a moment, savoring my touch, my smell as though they are to be his last.
My inner trembles begin to shake my whole body, my breath held. “I did something really stupid, miele
… …” His words instantly send a heavy dread inside of me, pulsing out through every limb, an ache in
my chest so strong I think my heart is going to give out. I can’t do anything except sit like stone, eyes
wide and frozen and wait, wait for whatever it is he needs to tell me with the growing trepidation that
this could change everything.
“What?” It’s so strained I don’t recognize my own voice, the question impulsive at the agony of what’s
coming out of his mouth. I’m paralyzed in fear, knowing only this man has the power to truly destroy
me.
“I was beyond drunk, Emma … Seriously fucked up … Upset … Not thinking straight.” He tightens his
hold on me as though the words are painful, and he’s scared I’ll run. I’m terrified, my mind racing at a
hundred miles an hour with growing dread.
What has he done? Why is he being this way?
“Tell me.” I beg, desperate to end this torture, tears already finding a path down my cheeks as if some
part of me already knows what’s happened and is mourning in advance.
“I kissed someone.” The shame of those uttered words makes him drop his head in disgust. My hands
shoot out of his, scolded in reaction, my body darting back as though he’s hit me with an electric volt.
My heart sears with pain and a blinding ache through my head. I gasp and try to catch my breath but
only a sob comes out.
He looks up, panic in his eyes yet stays still, he’s prepared himself for my reaction. This is why he sat
so close, so I’m hemmed in, even if I try to pull away. I can’t run without pushing him away and he
knows I don’t have the physical strength, he thought about this first.
God knows how long he’s played this over in his head in the last few hours.
“What?” I cry in shock when I can find the words. “What do you mean?” I can’t comprehend this, I don’t
want it to be true, for those painful words to be coming from my Jake’s mouth. Killing me and I’m
bleeding from every pore.
My Jake the one I trust, my security … My heart. My betrayer.
“Someone who was at the club. She wasn’t there with us, someone we know. Just a coincidence she
was even in town at all. I kissed her. I guess I wanted to lash out, so sure we were done.” His eyes
come to mine, keeping his hands steady on his lap, he knows not to touch me. He can see I’m perched
ready to react, only held still by my shock. Unable to make any part of my brain function beyond the
pain of what he’s said. The world spinning around me.
My body goes before my mind does, I gag, as though to vomit grasping my mouth with both palms and
then break down, the racking sounds of sobbing and the dissolving of my posture. The wrenching pain
of someone ripping your very soul from within. His face crumbles and he reaches for me but I slap him
away, hard, shoving his chest in anger.
I don’t know what to do … What to think, what to say; the pain is so unbearable, unlike anything I’ve
ever experienced in my life.
“Why? … How could you, Jake? … Who?” I can’t breathe but my voice is screeching out. I can’t think
straight; my heart is being shredded out through my stomach and I’m lashing out in teen Emma mode.
He tries to restrain me, but I battle him off until he stops. Unable to let him touch me. I think I may fall
down and pass out. I think I may die.
Oh, my god this may actually kill me.
“I’m sorry. Baby. I’m sorry … I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just wanted to lash out … I was
drunk and stupid, I’m an idiot … I fucked-up so badly … When I turned on my cell and got your
messages, Emma … I died.” His cheeks are wet with moisture, his voice low and shameful, his
expression reflecting the agony of what he’s telling me. I don’t doubt that he regrets it but he’s killing
me inside. This pain unbearable, I can’t begin to think about what he’s done to us, it destroys
everything. It takes all that we are and sets it alight, reducing it to nothing but ashes.
“Who?” I say again robotically, it’s the only detail I can focus on right now. I don’t know why it matters
but something inside of me says it matters a lot … I need to know.
What if it’s Leila? I trust Leila, I love her as a sister, and she’s meant to be in France; it would fit. The
pain of both betraying me that way would end me. A final, fatal blow.
He hesitates and looks away, standing to tower over me, his hands shaking as violently as mine. He’s
putting distance between us because he knows his next confession is going to be just as bad. I can tell,
I can feel it. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor between us. His distance makes
me afraid; he thinks I’m going to freak out, lash out again. He’s getting ready to move out of the firing
line.
Oh, my god! He’s going to tell me it’s Leila, he’s going to turn the knife and make it hurt more if that is
even possible. He’s going to kill me with his words, and I’ll die right here on the couch.
“Who?” I press again firmly, my heart ceases to beat, my breath held, still sitting with my hands clasped
so tightly my nails draw blood from my own palms, body rigid awaiting the blow.
He takes a long slow deep breath, locks eyes with me, where there’s fear and regret and tears. The
look of a man who has just lost everything and doesn’t know what else to do. I know that no matter
what he tells me the damage is already done and this is just adding salt to the wound.
How can I ever trust him again?
He swallows, as though preparing himself for the worst moment of his life and breathes the name
slowly.
“Marissa.”
END OF BOOK 2
Book 3 follows right on
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