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“How many times?”
“What?”
“How many times did youpayto fuck her?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The only noise in the room is my ragged breath and my hammering heartbeat. He lets out a long, low sigh, and puts his head in his hands, elbows on the bed in front of me.
“I don’t know,” he says.
I look at him. His head hangs, his shoulders shake, his fingernails dig into the sides of his scalp.
“You don’t know?”
He shakes his head. “Once or twice… a week? Maybe more? For two years?”
I feel the tears streak down my cheeks, hear them smack against my comforter. He’s not just some guy who hired a girl once or twice. He’s a regularJohn.
“I had no idea I would ever meet someone like you—”
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. The clarity that comes over me numbs everything. It’s almost soothing.
“What?” He sounds flummoxed.
I wipe at my cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve. “I can’t be with someone who does something like that. Someone who hurts me like that.” I can’t keep the sob down, and I feel like I might gag on it if I don’t let it out. I wrap my arms around myself.
“If you’ll just let me explain—”
“What could you possibly say to make this better?” I snap, looking up at him.
His eyes are red and bloodshot, dark gray smudges beneath them.
“What could you possibly say to fix the fact that you’ve been fucking a prostitute? You know how I grew up! You know… but that’s not even the worst of it.”
He’s quiet, but his brows narrow. I let out a harsh laugh and shake my head.
“There’s literally nothing you can say, nothing you can do, to make up for the pictures you put out there.”
His eyes turn to ice and his shoulders tense. “What pictures?”
“They’re all over the internet,” I say, hugging myself around the shoulders. “Me in Vegas. What you did to me…they’re out there.”
His skin pales.
He didn’t know about the pictures of me.
He came over here, thinking he could fix things by talking me down about how he’d been paying someone to fuck him. But he didn’t know he’d gotten caught for sharing those pictures of me. Pictures I never would have allowed anyone to take if I’d been thinking straight. But I trusted him in that moment. I trusted him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. And now anyone who wants to can find those pictures of me, tied up, dirty, used.
“I’m going to fucking kill whoever got their hands on that. I will fix this, Megan. I swear to God, I will fix this. And I will explain. I hadn’t talked to Karlie since I met you. I swear on my life, I swear on our bab—”
“Don’t you dare swear anything on my baby.”
He sits up, the little color left in his face draining.
“This isn’t just a pregnancy. It’s a baby. And while you’ve been doing whatever it is you’ve been doing, I’ve been preparing for life as a mother. I’ve shared the news and made the arrangements and figured it all out. But you? Hell, have you even told your parents yet? What do you think you’re going to do?” I ask, tears and spittle settling in the corners of my mouth. “Threaten people to take them down? It’s on the internet. The internet is forever. It’s out there. My baby’s mother’s used-up vagina is now on the internet for everyone to see. How are you going to fix that? And the world knows you’ve been to a hooker. What about her? How are you going to fix this for her? And for her family? My god, we met her husband. Hersickhusband. What are you going to do to make this okay for them?”
I’m ugly crying now, snot dripping down my face, gasping between sobs.
“I won’t make excuses,” he says, his voice low and shaky. “But if you’ll let me explain—”
