Page 35 of Jesse

“We remember the way you lied to us,” the third one says. I recognize her voice from the one earlier telling them I was coming around.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I say.

“What are we talking about?” the tallest one says. She’s completed her circle and stops right in front of me. So close I have to tilt my head up to see her hidden face. She places both her hands on my shoulders and leans down. “We’re talking about how you used us. Got what you wanted and then threw us away like trash. How many girls, Jesse? How many, over the course of your pathetic lifetime, did you treat this same way?”

I almost laugh.

“Is that funny?” the short one asks.

“You’re… ex-girlfriends?” I say. “Really?” Then the whole thing is too much and I do laugh.

“Ex-one-night-stands,” the third one says.

“And you know,” the tall one says, “it’s not even that, is it girls? Who cares if everyone is getting what they want? If expectations are set, and met, then who cares if you fuck around, right?”

The others agree.

“But you,” she seethes. Like I evoke some deep-rooted hated inside her. “That’s not how you do it, is it? You lead people on. You tell lies.”

“Lies like… ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,’” the short one says.

“Lies like… ‘I think we have this deep connection,’” the third one says.

“Lies like… ‘I don’t want you to leave but I have to meet some friends. Promise me you’ll come back later. Because now that I’ve met you, I can’t live without you,’” the tall one finishes up.

All this is ringing a bell. I will say that. Because I have said those things to possibly dozens of girls. Maybe even more than that.

But that was a long time ago.

Long time ago.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask.

They look at each other. Come to some kind of conclusion. Then the tall one begins to speak.

“Key West. Thirteen years ago.”

My stomach sinks. My heart gets this immediate ache. Because she’s telling me about how we met in a bar on Key West, and I took her back to my yacht and we fucked on the upper deck, and then I may or may not have said all those things they just ticked off and moved on to the next one.

Who is now talking. Telling me how we met on the beach and then I took her into a nearby alley and fucked her against a wall. Again, with the promise of more to come. A promise of a deep connection.

And then the third one is going on and on about how I followed her around Mallory Square telling her how beautiful she was and how my whole life needed to come to a complete stop so she could get on this ride and take it with me.

I promised her a life on the ocean. Sailing around the world on my yacht.

And all three of these encounters all have one thing in common.

That was when I met Emma.

This is why my heart aches and my stomach sinks.

Emma.

She’s not hurt. She’s not in trouble. She’s not tied up in some mob boss’ basement as punishment for some long-forgotten transgression.

She did this.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - EMMA