Page 63

Story: Destroying Declan

I drop my gaze, and focus on getting Jessica out of here. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going leave, right fucking now, and if you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll make you very, very sorry.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just lets me lead her to the door.
She’s pouting.
I’m the one who caught her practically fucking the shortstop for the Sox in a public elevator and she’s the one who’s pouting.
Jess is huddled against the passenger door of my truck, rubbing her arm where I grabbed her while slipping me wounded looks, like she’s some kind of battered wife and I’m the big, dumb brute who settles everything with his fists.
Fuck.
“What part of do not come to Cari’s opening did you not understand?” I don’t look at her when I say it because it’s probably best that I don’t look at her.
“Cari is my best friend, Declan,” she simpers at me. “Of course I’m going to be there to support her on her big night.”
“Cari is your best friend?” I repeat it because I’m hoping if she hears someone else say it out loud, she’ll recognize how absolutely insane it sounds. When she doesn’t say anything I start to laugh. “Cari isn’t your best friend, Jessica—she isn’t your best anything. She can’t fucking stand you and let’s be honest, the feeling is mutual. The only reason you asked Cari to be your maid-of-honor is that you knew it would hurt Tess. That ends. Right. Fucking. Now.”
I said the magic word.
“It always comes back to her, doesn’t it?” she drops her scared rabbit routine and hisses at me like a snake. “Tess.”
“For you and me both.”
Usually, when she accuses me of still being hung up on Tess, I either ignore her or flat-out deny it. Not because I’m ashamed or don’t want her to know, but because Jessica is a vindictive bitch who looks for and uses every excuse she can find to hurt Tess, every chance she gets.
She and I have a lot in common.
“So, you admit it,” she screeches at me, like she’s uncovered the crime of the century. “You are still in love with that dirty little slut.”
“Number one—you ever call her that again, you’re going to regret it. Number two—Tess wasn’t the one letting Ephraim Viaga work her like a goddamned sock puppet in a public elevator.” I let myself look at her, if only so I can have the satisfaction of watching her mouth flap and flop like a fish. “That was you—and while we’re being honest, let me be clear—I sincerely don’t give a shit.”
“What?” We’re back to wounded.
“I don’t care who you fuck,” I say enunciating each word as clearly as I can.
“Because you’re still in love with Tess.” She’s back to pouting. Trying to find an angle to make this my fault. Make me the bad guy.
She really doesn’t need to expend the effort.
I am the bad guy.
Always have been.
“My feelings for Tess are irrelevant.” I pull off the road and into an empty spot in front of our apartment building. lived here for nearly two years before I even thought about dating Jessica. When we started seeing each other, she slipped in like a squatter and I let her because living with her is a part of my penance. “I don’t care who you fuck because I’m not in love with you.”
“You don’t mean that.” Her eyes glitter with tears. I’d bet my left nut they’re as fake as she is. She’s incapable of feeling anything real.
“Yes, I do.” I look right at her when I say it. I need to make sure she understands. That this isn’t up for negotiation. That I absolutely mean every word I’m saying to her. “Now, get out of my truck.”
“Where are you going?” she demands in an accusatory tone, still pretending she has a right to ask me anything.
“Now.”
My tone has her grappling for the door handle. When she’s standing on the sidewalk I reach across the cab to pull the passenger door closed but she steps in front of it to block me.
“Are we still getting married?” Her eyes are dry when she asks it. The show is over. No simpering pout. No accusatory screech. Jessica is all business. She’s not fighting to save our relationship. She’s closing a business deal.
I stare at her, wondering what happened to her. When she got so broken. If something happened to her or if she was just born this way.
It never really mattered before. I never really cared about why because it’s what makes being with her so easy. Why she’s perfect for me.
Because she’s incapable of genuine emotion. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, I can’t hurt her.
“Yes.” I reach past her, barely giving her enough time to move out the way before I slam the car door shut.