“You’re not good enough for him.” McCarthy holds out his hand to me. “But to me, you’re perfect. What do you say? Let’s get out of here.”
I take his hand…
He smiles like he’s just won a chess game.
…and I dig my freshly manicured nails into his wrist. “I am always the first one to say ‘I love you.’ It’s actually the one thing I couldn’t learn to love about myself, my desperate need to be loved. Then you acted like you cared about me, like I was important to you.” I wrench the necklace off. “Said you wanted to marry me, and even thoughI knew better,knewyou were lying, I wanted to believe.”
“You love me. Jenna.”
“I don’t even blame you.” The earrings come out next. “It’s all on me. You told me exactly who you were from day one. I was stupid for trusting you. I know men don’t change. Especially not for a woman.”
I take the bracelet off my wrist and slap the knot of jewelry into his palm.
“I am,” McCarthy insists. “I did.”
“You’re lying to me. Or yourself.” I can’t read his expression. “I never want to see you again, McCarthy. Get the fuck out of my life.”
45
MCCARTHY
“Get the fuck out of my tower,” I bark at the guards standing outside my door.
“But we ordered delivery and—”
“I said get the fuck out.” I slam the front door.
The paintings on the wall rattle.
Truman, on the couch, raises his head, yawning.
Why the hell is she so stubborn? Fuck.
I did everything for Jenna. All the other men in her life used and abused her. I was the only one who actually solved the problem, who did anything about it, and now she acts like I’m the problem in her life? That I’m the reason her life is shit and not the terrible men she surrounds herself with?
It’s just like my mom with my father. I should have known better than to get involved with a lost cause. And Jenna is a lost cause.
I stand in front of my murder wall, take out the red marker, and draw a big redXthough Nathan’s face, then Rex’s, then her father’s.
Jenna wants to hate me? Fine. I don’t care.
My phone rings. Salinger’s calling me. Guess he heard the good news.
I don’t care. I was right. I was right about Joseph, I was right about HopeWorks, and I was right about Jenna’s stalkers.
I send Salinger to voicemail.
The intercom system buzzes from the concierge desk.
“Hey, Mac?” Anton sounds uncertain. “Jenna’s here. She needs her laptop.”
My shoulders relax. See? She came back.
“Send her up.”
“She, uh…”
I hear Jenna talking in the background.
