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She pulls it down, covering most of her torso. “You’re so smart.” She leans in and kisses him. “And sexy.” Another kiss. “And a good fuck.”

“That’s enough.” Wes’s voice wafts through my clouded brain just before he pulls me away from the car, but not fast enough to miss Jared’s eyes snapping in my direction. “Don’t do this to yourself, London. He’s not worth it. He’s a prick.”

Tears burn my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I no longer give a shit about Jared Kraft. I’m so angry that I’m sure in this moment I can walk away and never think about him ever again.

Jared’s voice ordering the woman off of him echoes around the empty parking lot, and I begin to shake. This is not the man who loved me. This is not the man who asked me to marry him and then gave me a ring—this is not the man I love.

Wes attempts to pull me back toward his car, but anger rages through me. The thought of storming over there and grabbing handfuls of Jared’s now-shaggy hair and dragging him out of the car crosses my mind, but I know that’s the absolute wrong thing to do. I need him to hurt—to feel the pain I’m feeling right now.

I stare down at the ring on my finger and hate that its sparkle is now gone.

The woman gets out of the car first, followed by Jared, who stares in our direction with a furrowed brow. “What in the hell are the two of you doing here?”

I open my mouth to fire back at him, but Wes turns me around and points me in the direction of his car again. “He’s drunk, London. Don’t get him started. We’ve seen how things go when he’s drunk and angry, and I won’t allow him to hurt you again—accident or not.”

We march toward Wes’s car, and all the while I fight the urge to run back and smack the shit out of Jared’s face.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” Jared yells across the parking lot, and I completely snap.

I twist out of Wes’s grip and run back toward Jared, yanking the ring off my finger in the process. “You are a selfish son of a bitch. We thought you were dead! You walk out on all of us with no note—no nothing—after what this family has been through. Your mother hired a private investigator to find out if you were still even alive.”

“You are not my family,” he growls.

His cold tone causes me to flinch.

“Who are you?” I shake my head, completely floored. “I stood by you—told everyone that you were just going through something and that you would get your shit together and grow out of”—I motion up and down his body—“this. But now I can see that I was wrong. You truly don’t care about anyone but yourself. Here!” I throw the ring into his chest, and he catches it easily with one hand. “Maybe you can give this to her and tell her a bunch of lies, because I’m done. I never want to ever see you again.”

A grimace is the only reaction I get from Jared before he becomes a complete void. A normal person would show some kind of emotion in this situation, but he just stands there without any expression, like I’m annoying him and he can’t wait to be rid of me.

I turn on my heel, refusing to allow myself to cry in front of him. I will not break down in front of a man who obviously doesn’t care about my feelings.

A small part of me expects Jared to come to his senses and realize how much he’s hurt me and his family and chase after me and beg forgiveness for everything

that he’s put us through. But he doesn’t. He allows both me and Wes to walk away, get into the car, and drive off, without any protest whatsoever.

I am so fucking done.

NOW

LONDON

I love each and every child in my class, but I am truly grateful when Saturdays roll around for a little bit of a break.

I plop down on the sofa and grab the remote. On the weekends, I never go anywhere or do anything, so the DVR box and I have become besties. I glance up at the clock and notice it’s nearly five in the evening, and yet I’m still in my frog-print pajama bottoms and matching tank top, while my hair remains in the same messy bun I put it in this morning. No one will be seeing me, so it’s not like it matters.

I stir the chocolate syrup into my chocolate ice cream before I shove a big spoonful into my mouth. This is totally unhealthy, I know, but things have just been so shitty lately, I might as well enjoy something.

Who needs to be a size zero anyhow?

I fast-forward through another set of commercials during my Vampire Diaries binge-watch session as I anxiously wait to discover if Elena will finally make a move on Damon, the hot bad-boy brother. The second I hit “Play,” my doorbell rings, causing me to groan as I pause the show.

I set my bowl down on the coffee table, then shove myself up from the couch. The only person who could be at my door is Bud, Julie’s sweet delivery man. Poor old guy gets stuck bringing me yellow roses and candy every day, thanks to Wes’s over-the-top attempt to keep himself fresh in my mind.

I grab the hair inside the elastic band to tighten it down more so that I appear somewhat presentable. “Coming!”

I grab a couple bucks out of my wallet for a tip, then scuffle over to the door in my bare feet. I twist the knob and push open the door, and the person who’s on the other side stops me and steals my breath.

My mouth drops open, and I can’t do anything but stare. It’s like seeing a ghost—something you never in your life ever expected to see—and I just can’t look away. I resist the urge to reach down and pinch myself to make sure this moment is real.

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