12
JENNA
He’s wrong. McCarthy is wrong.
Nathan loves me.
He comes to pick up Truman to take him on a nice long walk in the afternoons and has been for the last few months because he said he saw I was stressed out with work.
I should trust Nathan.
I shouldn’t listen to McCarthy. He’s evil. Nathan is good.
So why am I sitting on the early bus, heading out to our townhome?
Don’t you meanNathan’stownhome?my mind, which has, for some reason, adopted McCarthy’s voice, hisses.Nathan bought it and didn’t put you on the deed, even though you pay half the mortgage. It’s not your house.
He’s not cheating on me. He says I’ll be on the deed when we’re officially married. We both understand that he’strying to protect himself, and I’m okay with that because I love him.
Everything seems normal when I stand at the bus stop across from the postage-stamp yard filled with flowers I transplanted from my mom’s garden.
I silently let myself in.
Truman looks up from where he’s chewing on a toy… Is that a new squeaky? I don’t recognize it. I shush him before he can bark.
Like I’m in a dream or a waking nightmare, I set my bags down on the couch.
“See? McCarthy is wrong.”
Except… there’s a woman’s scarf I don’t recognize on the back of the armchair.
Except those definitely aren’t my heels on the stairs.
Except when I creep as silently as I can along the carpeted hallway, the telltale wet slapping noises make it obvious that Nathan’s not alone in our bedroom.
The hand I clap over my mouth catches the tears that fall when I gaze, stunned, through the crack in the door to see Nathan, balls deep in a perky-breasted brunette that I recognize from his company Christmas party.
“This isn’t happening.”
McCarthy must have drugged me, or maybe this is just another one of his tricks.
Could he have hired actors who look like Nathan and his homewrecking coworker? Isn’t that something a billionaire with a grudge could do?
“This isn’t real.”
I meant to only think it, but I must have said it out loud because Nathan’s head rises up.
His moist, half-hard cock flops around comically as he jumps off the brunette, who seems miffed that I dare show up here at this hour in my own freaking home.
I’m not quiet as I sprint down the hallway down the stairs.
“Jenna!” Nathan’s running after me. “Jenna, stop!”
He grabs my wrists, forcing me away from my pile of bags, which hold the papers outlining the ten-step plan that McCarthy turned into a flaming dumpster fire, just like my engagement.
“Let go of me! How dare you? You’re cheating on me?” I slap at him, and he grabs me roughly.
“It’s not what it looks like, Jelly Bean.”
