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I know Emma had sex with Reese and West. Reese came out and admitted to it—as a challenge to me, I think. He figured out that she and I had hooked up, but I was trying to keep it on the down-low. I couldn’t easily do that when he was talking about how he’d fucked her in his car though, could I? I had to let him know he wasn’t the only one with a claim on her. So I came clean too.
West… well, he’s a whole different story. He never admitted shit. That man could take a secret to the fucking grave. But I figured it out anyway. I told Reese, and the two of us had a little chat with him and dragged the truth out of him.
I have to say, I was seriously jealous at first. I want Emma to myself.
But in the days that followed, all four of us have been hanging out, and it’s been… good. I like having Emma as a part of our group like she used to be, and for the moment, we’re just leaving things at that. But I still want more from her. So much more.
I’m supposed to hate her. I still don’t know who else could’ve sent that anonymous message to my dad telling him that Mom cheated on him. Emma and I were the only ones who saw. There’s no way anyone else was in that room.
But I’m ignoring that fact. I’d like to say I’ve completely forgiven her, but it’s more like I’ve just decided to pretend the evidence doesn’t exist.
Because I don’t want to hate Emma.
I set out to destroy her, but instead, I find myself encouraging her, smiling at her in class, and sending her texts way too fucking often. And the crazy thing is, this feels better than the vengeance ever did.
“Chicken pot pie okay for dinner?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
She looks over at me from the kitchen island, where she’s gathering vegetables on a cutting board. “Well, come on then. Put those muscles to work and help your mother.”
I chuckle and step forward, taking a knife and beginning to cut up the veggies into chunks. I actually really love cooking. Mom taught me how, and I cook often at the house I share with the guys. It relaxes me.
“Have you spoken with your father at all?” Mom asks, grabbing another cutting board from the pantry.
“No.” I shake my head, glancing at her. Ever since the divorce, I barely talk to him. I’m still pissed at him for how he treated Mom, and I think he decided to cut me out of his life the same time he cut her loose.
“I heard he’s dating someone.” Her voice is a little tense, but when I look at her, she’s focused on the vegetables she’s chopping.
“How about you, in the ladies department?” she asks after a second, seeming anxious to change the subject.
“There’s someone that I like, yeah.” I nod.
“Oh?”
“She’s pretty special,” I add.
Mom perks up at that, like a bloodhound on the scent. “That’s wonderful. I’d like to meet her.”
Mom, you’ve already met her, and if you keep dating Paul, you’re going to be seeing a whole lot more of her.
I can’t say any of this, of course. If she knew the truth about what’s gone down between me and Emma—everything that’s happened—I think it would give her a heart attack. I also can’t tell her it was Emma who broke up her marriage in the first place.
“Paul and I have a little date after dinner,” Mom says, unaware of my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” She grins. “We’re going to go out dancing!”
Ah, no wonder she seems like she’s in a bit of a hurry to get dinner going. I feel a little twinge of annoyance that Paul seems to be worming his way into her life so fast, but I brush it away.
An early dinner is good for me anyway. We’re finished with our Anthropology project, and I’m the one in charge of turning it in tomorrow. I gotta little more work to do on it tonight.
“That sounds cool,” I say, flashing her a smile that actually feels genuine.
“Yes, we used to dance all the time.”
I freeze.
