Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
His tone instantly sets me on edge. It’s too calm. Too curious.
I push back, creating a little distance between us. “Not when you say it like that.”
“Is Dan the Douchewaffle—”
I let out a giggle, even though Jigsaw mentioning my ex is already tensing my body with anxiety.
Jigsaw remains stone-cold serious. “Is he the one who—” He frowns and swallows hard, as if he can’t put his thoughts into the right combination of words. “Is he the one who made you think you needed sex lessons.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a weak attempt to add a little light teasing to the heavy question.
“I told you, none of my previous experiences were good,” I hedge, sensing he won’t stop this time. Not until he has answers, and I want to delay as long as possible.
“Yeah, I could tell.”
My heart thuds. Is that his way of saying I was terrible when we first started? “You could tell?”
“Just…from some of the questions you asked.” He frowns. “We’ve talked about this—you thought you couldn’t come, didn’t want me to go down on you, expected sex to hurt…”
Shame heats my skin as he lists all the little signs he picked up on that loudly announced how awful my prior experiences had been.
“Hey.” He slides his arms under my body, pulling me closer. “Stop. None of that made me think badly of you.”
“Just sorry for me?”
“No. Your…inexperience is one thing, but you were convinced you were broken. And then yesterday, I overheard how that guy spoke to you. Is he the one who made you feel that way?”
“Yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut, scared that once I open the door to my past, I won’t be able to close it.
“How? What’d he say?”
Why does he want to know so badly?
Will he use the information to judge how much abuse I’m willing to tolerate and change the way Daniel did?
“Just mean stuff.”
“Like what? That you were broken because he couldn’t figure out how your body works?”
“Pretty much.” Please, please stop asking.
Maybe it would be a relief to finally purge it all to someone.
And Jigsaw’s the safest person I know.
He’s staring at me intently, waiting for more details.
“You promise you won’t tell anyone?” I ask, hating the pitiful pleading in my tone. “Not even Rooster? I know he’s your best friend and as much as I like him, I—"
“Promise.” He presses his hand over his heart. “Not even Rooster.”
Shame I shouldn’t even feel wraps around my throat. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not broken.
Why is it still hard to share something so embarrassing even though I trust him?
“It’s okay.” He lets out a long sigh. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
He doesn’t try to guilt me into spilling my pain, just keeps his arms around me. The solid protection of his body surrounding me finally loosens the knot of embarrassment tangling my tongue.
“Daniel and I started out…nice. He seemed perfect at first.”
“How’d you meet?”
“Through my dad’s bank.” I roll my eyes. It sounds so absurd. “He works in finance.”
Jigsaw snorts. “Go on.”
“He’d take me out to dinner. Invited me to meet his friends. Seemed very interested in getting to know my father.” I pause, searching for details I’ve buried. “One time when we were at an event, one of his college buddies made fun of my job in front of everyone.”
I scowl, the details of that awful night returning with painful clarity. “It embarrassed me terribly, but I laughed it off because I’m used to people saying stupid things about what I do.” I stop and close my eyes briefly. “But Daniel seemed really bothered by it. Slowly, we stopped socializing with his circle. He started criticizing me a lot more. I wasn’t smart enough. Or pretty enough. I dressed too weird. Wore too much makeup. Not enough makeup. Nothing I did seemed to make him happy.”
“Jesus, Margot. All of that is bullshit. You know that now, right?”
I half-heartedly lift one shoulder and nod. “Even though he seemed to hate everything about me, he still asked me to marry him. Gave me a beautiful ring.” I glance down at my bare fingers. “I had this uneasy feeling in my stomach. But like an idiot, I still said yes.”
“You said yes to this guy?” he asks in a pained voice.
I shift my gaze to his, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.
“I did. On paper, he seemed like a good fit for me. I’d never come close to feeling anything like I thought people in love were supposed to feel.” I press my hand over my heart. “I kept telling myself that’s because this is real life, not a movie or a book. I’m an adult, not a teenager. I didn’t need to be romanced and smothered with affection all the time. He paid for our dates. Introduced me to his family…”