“These are just the ones I found on social media. There are probably others.”
“I think you need to play defense on this one, not offense.”
“Have you met Jenna?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, and I’d have no problem keeping her inside.”
I slug him in the kidneys.
He just laughs. “I’d tell you to work on your groveling to Jenna,” he adds over his shoulder. “But I know you don’t actually care.”
My phone goes off,a topless photo appearing on the screen preview.
Crawford sees it, his face darkening. “You’re such a piece of shit.”
The door slams.
I delete the messages and wish I had a photo of Jenna on my phone. Then I block the numbers of the women texting me.
I resist the urge to rip down my carefully constructed murder wall. Instead, I stare at the faces as the hot anger burns under my skin, which still smells like her.
The decision is made abruptly.
I sit at my computer and begin to implement the nuclear option. I’m removing one of the chess pieces from the board.
Crawford’s right. I am a piece of shit.
Which is just what I need to be. Because no one is taking Jenna from me.
36
JENNA
“Why are they so into him?” I rant, my pale lavender cocktail sloshing over the side of the glass. “He’s been texting with them. They’re sending him nudie images. He’slookingatthem.”
“I remember you sending some inappropriate photos over text message…” Hannah gives me a pointed look.
“I was engaged.”
Hannah makes a noncommittal noise.
Last night, I locked myself in a guest room after running away from McCarthy.
A part of me wanted him to break the door down, kiss my face, gather me into his arms, and assure me that I was special, that he did care for me, that I was the only girl for him.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t even care when I told him I was leaving this morning, just slapped my phone into my hand and told me not to call him when I got kidnapped.
“Why doesn’t he want me?” I wail. “It’s not that I even care about him. I just don’t want to be rejected. Again. I can’t believe I slept with him. What is wrong with me? This whole time, he was using me. I knew he was using me, and I let him. Like, I literally knew what he was doing.”
I take a long sip from my cocktail. “The photos of him with Sable went viral. She wore a trendy designer with a big social media following. Now she’s a hashtag icon.”
“That’s probably why all those fake girlfriends keep messaging you, wanting to know if McCarthy needs another date.”
“I could understand if they just wanted the clout, but they seem to think McCarthy’s going to fall in love with them and give them the happily ever after every girl dreams of.”
“It’s that ‘doesn't text back’ energy.” Hannah spears the booze-soaked cherry in her glass and pops it in her mouth. “A man has to be born with that level of casual indifference.”
