“Positive. God, you’re rabid. It’s kind of sweet, but also kind of creepy.”

“How is she handling the Darren thing?”

Gail shrugged. “You know. She’s fine. It was traumatic to see, but after what he did to her, she is hardly heartbroken over it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked absentmindedly, my eyes searching for stuff that belonged to Jesse behind Gail’s shoulder, in the apartment. Because, apparently, creepy outweighed the sweet by a few tons.

“You know, how he took her virgin—” She stopped there and stared at me like I’d slapped her. I looked down, something moving between us. Realization was a black fog through which I saw everything clearly. The pieces fell together.

What.

The.

Fuck.

“Repeat that,” I ordered quietly. My blood simmered under my skin, bubbling with heat I was genuinely concerned could burn me to death.

Gail took a step back and covered her mouth with her hand. “I thought she told you.”

“Why would she? She dumped my ass.” This was new information, because there was no way Jesse would keep it from me. She was always honest. The opposite of me.

“Yeah.” Gail took a deep breath, rubbing her face, smearing the purple lipstick she forgot she’d just applied. “Yeah. Sorry. She is dealing with it, Roman. She is.”

I looked at her expectantly, waiting for more, but she just turned around and rushed into the apartment. I followed her, kicking the door with my foot.

“What am I supposed to do, Gail? Tell me. Because I can’t let her go, but I can’t force her into being with me, either.” She’s had enough of men forcing shit on her.

Gail looked up, munching on the edges of her fingernail, and I thought, so much deep purple.

“Time.”

“What?”

“You’ve given her everything. A job, love, passion, your dick. The only thing you haven’t given her is time.”

“What if she decides she doesn’t want me at the end of it?” I rubbed my face with my palm.

Gail smiled. “Then be happy for her, Roman. That’s the essence of love.”

The Letter

My Dearest Jesse,

This is the hardest and easiest thing I ever had to do in my life. Hardest, because I know what I will be doing after writing this letter, and dread the moment, even though I want it to be over and done with. Easiest, because I’ve been keeping these feelings to myself for far too long, and there’s nothing more liberating than the truth.

I wish I could tell you I regret what I did. But if we are being honest—and honesty is the only thing I owe you, really—I have given you and your mom everything that I have and will leave it to you, Jesse, after I die—the only thing I regret is you remembering. I thought you were too drunk. Completely out of it.

I wanted you.

So I took you.

Because it’s always been you.

I remember the first time I saw you. You. Not Pam. Your mother was working the cash register at a diner in my accountant’s building. It was by mistake that I’d gone into this branch. Rather than noticing the blonde bombshell my age, I noticed the girl sitting next to her, with the inky ponytails and huge blue eyes. You were reading a book, your hair like feathers, your eyes like crystals. You were forbidden and luscious. From the shape of your eyes to your pillowy narrow lips, your beauty held so much power, and you didn’t even know it yet.

The worst part was that you were easy.

A man of my position could lure a woman in your mom’s situation into just about anything. Especially marriage.

I knew I didn’t need much. One night, maybe two. I was going to be patient and good. I fell in love with you, Jesse. It was difficult not to. Your passion for books, for life, for love. And it was so easy to get near you, too. Your mother was recovering from losing Art. Both to another woman and to death.

I was quiet.

I was nice.

I was different.

I was evil.

No one knew.

No one suspected.

Still waters run deep.

My only regret is that you drowned in my sins.

I want you to know that it was never malicious. I had hopes. I did. Maybe you felt the same. Maybe I wasn’t so crazy. Maybe for the first time in my life, someone didn’t see me for the lisp-y loser that I was (or that I wanted people to think I am. Oh, Jesse, it is so easy to manipulate people once they think you’re weak). Maybe that person was you.

I will say this—I did feel sorry for what Emery and the boys did to you. When they hurt you, they hurt me. I never thought it would go this far. I didn’t even think Wallace would notice. I definitely did not anticipate the rape, and for that, I apologize profoundly, although I have to sustain that any levelheaded person wouldn’t have acted the way he did.