Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“It’s Patrick,” I reply in an unsteady tone. “He’s been cheating on me.”
“Wait, what?” Dakota sounds disbelieving. “Hang on a minute, slow down. How do you know? When did this come out?”
“Just now,” I reply, swallowing hard. “I was on his computer looking for baby pictures. There was this folder…” Gritting my teeth, I continue. “Remember that girl from high school? Raina Peterson?”
There’s a pause on the other side.
“The blonde girl from English? Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“She’s not blonde anymore,” I reply. “I almost didn’t recognize her because I think she’s turned into some kind of dominatrix, or something.” The words feel absurd even as they come out of my mouth, and saying them aloud only makes them feel more true. “There was this folder full of pictures on Patrick’s laptop. He was there with Raina at this nightclub, but I don’t think it was a nightclub. It looked like a sex den. The things they were doing, Dakota, holy shit -”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” my friend says, sounding flabbergasted. “Slow down. You’re saying you found kinky sex pictures of Patrick?”
“Yes,” I reply, frustrated and exasperated. “With Raina Peterson. I don’t know how long he’s been doing this, but it has to at least have been since we were dating.”
“OMG,” breathes Dakota. “Libby, I’m so sorry. Where is he now? Have you talked to him about this?”
“He’s still gone,” I reply. “Probably off choking and fucking some other girl, given what I’ve seen. God, I’m so angry!”
“Choking?” Dakota manages in a strangled voice. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask. Just take it easy, Libs,” she reminds me. “Breathe. Are you going to talk to him about it when he gets back?”
“Oh, I’ll talk to him all right, believe me,” I reply with a scowl. “But not before letting him know that I sent those pictures to our whole Bible study group.”
“You what?” Dakota exclaims. “Will they kick him out?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care, but that’s the least they should do.” I look over at our workbooks, still sitting where we left them on the coffee table. It feels like the crosses on the covers are mocking me.
Dakota, ever the peacemaker, speaks up. “You don’t think you should give him a chance to explain himself first?”
“What’s there to explain?” I demand. “He’s cheating on me in the worst way possible! What would you do if you saw Jack getting filthy in a sex club with some other girl? Wouldn’t you want to murder him on the spot?”
“Yes, of course, but I just don’t want to see you hurt,” my friend protests. “This isn’t going to get you anywhere good, Libby.”
A familiar feeling of uncertainty rears its ugly head then. I’ve never exactly been known for my rational decision-making, and I catch the voice in my mind whispering that maybe this was a mistake. But I shake my head viciously, raking a hand through my brunette curls. “Well, it’s too late for that now,” I reply in a grim tone. “What else am I supposed to do? I thought we had a future together.”
“Maybe you still do,” Dakota points out, but even over the phone line, I can hear the doubt in her voice. “You could at least hear him out.”
“No,” I reply. “Not a chance.” This isn’t something I can forget, and it’s sure as hell not something I can forgive. “The second he gets home, I’m letting him have it.”
“Letting me have what?” a voice sounds behind my shoulder.
I whirl around, nearly dropping my phone, to see Patrick himself standing on the threshold of my apartment. In his hands are two large grocery bags. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “There was a lot of traffic.”
I do my best to maintain a blank expression as I address Dakota. “He’s here. Let me call you back.”
“Okay, take it easy honey,” Dakota requests. “Good luck.”
I stuff the phone back into my pocket, rigid as a board with my insides boiling. Patrick is the same as always, still wearing a puffy coat to shield himself from the winter weather, his dark hair a little messy and his cheeks rosy from the cold. And yet, knowing what he’s done, it’s like I’m looking at a completely different person. It’s almost impossible to believe that this is the same guy from those pictures, and it fills me with rage.
“I forgot the sodas,” Patrick confesses as he sets the groceries down on the table. “I figure there’s always water, right?”
“Forget the drinks,” I tell him coldly. “We need to talk.”
“What about?” Patrick asks, looking at me with naive innocence, as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.
That only pisses me off more. “Raina Peterson, huh?” I bark. “I mean, to each their own, I guess.”
Patrick frowns innocently, and it just enrages me even more. “What are you talking about?”