Chapter 15

She looks awful. Stunningly, breathtakingly awful.

Her eyes are bloodshot, her face is pale—and despite all that, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Looking anywhere else just isn't possible.

Lisa is staring too. Her gaze is unwavering—drinking me in—burning me up.

We stand like that for a minute. And then she walks toward me. Her steps are purposeful and focused, like she's marching into a business meeting with her entire career on the line.

She stops just a few feet away.

But it feels like much farther.

And everything I'd planned on saying to her in New York flies right out of my head. So instead, I start off easy. "How did you know I was here?"

"I went to the diner first, saw your mom in the kitchen. She said she didn't know where you were. And she was looking at me like she wanted to chop my dick off and put it on the Specials Menu. So I went out front—ran into Kai. He told me you'd probably be here."

Of course Kai would know where I was. Just like he knew I would want him to send Lisa to me.

"Did he do that to your face?" I'm talking about the fist-sized welt on her left cheek. It looks fresh—just starting to bruise.

She touches it gingerly. "No. Jisoo was with him."

No surprise there. Although I don't think her heart was really in it. If Jisoo seriously wanted to do Lisa damage? She wouldn't have wasted her time with her face—it would have been straight to the crotch.

"What do you want, Lisa?"

She lets out a short bark of laughter, but there's no humor behind it. "There's a loaded question." Then she looks off into the horizon. "I didn't think you'd leave New York."

I lift a brow, questioning, "After your little show? What did you think I would do?"

"I thought you'd curse me out, maybe smack me. I thought you'd choose me... even if it was just to keep someone else from having me."

Jealousy. Lisa's weapon of choice. She used it when she thought I wanted to win Kai back, remember?

"Well, you were wrong."

She nods grimly. "So it seems." Her eyes meet mine for a long moment. And her brow wrinkles just a little. "Were you... happy... with me, Jennie? Because I was really happy. And I thought you were too."

I can't help the small smile that comes to my lips. Because I remember. "Yes, I was happy."

"Then tell me why? You owe me that much."

My words come out slow, hushed sadness weighing down every syllable. "I didn't plan it, Lisa. You have to know that I didn't mean for it to happen. But it did. And people change. The things we want... change. And right now, you and I want two very different things."

She takes a step toward me. "Maybe not."

I'm trying hard not to read into the fact that she's here. I don't want to hope. Because hope really does float, like a piece of wood on a wave. But if it turns out to be unfounded?

It smashes against the rocks—breaking you into a thousand pieces.

"What does that mean?"

Her words are careful. Planned. "I'm here to renegotiate the terms of our relationship."

"Renegotiate?"

"I've given it a lot of thought. You went right from Kai to me, jumped in with both feet. You've never just... screwed around. Played the field. So... if you want to hook up with other people"—her jaw tightens, like the words are trying to stay in, and she has to force them out—"I'm okay with that."

My face pinches with confusion. "You came all this way, to tell me you want us to... see other people?"

She swallows hard. "Yeah. You know—as long as I still get to be in the rotation."

Sex has always been a top priority for Lisa. That's what this is about, right? She doesn't want the baby—but she doesn't want to stop sleeping with me either? Having her cake and all that. No strings attached.

It's like an episode of Jerry Springer.

"How would that work exactly, Lisa? A quick fuck on our lunch break? A midnight booty call? No talking allowed—no questions asked?"

She looks ill. "If that's what you want."

And I'm so... disappointed. Disgusted.

With her.

"Go home, Lisa. You're wasting your time. I have no desire to play the field at this particular point in my life."

That takes her by surprise. "But... why not? I thought..." She trails off. And then her eyes harden. "Is this about him? Are you seriously fucking telling me he means that much to you?"

I don't appreciate her tone. It's derogatory, mocking. Did I say I was a butterfly before? Nope. I'm a fucking lioness.

"He means everything to me." I point my finger. "And I won't let you make me feel bad about it."

She flinches, like I've Tasered her with a stun gun. Five thousand volts straight to the chest. But then she recovers. And she folds her arms obstinately. Completely unapologetic. "I don't care. It doesn't frigging matter."

If you fill a tire with too much air, push it past its limit, do you know happens?

It explodes.

"How can you say that! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She comes right back at me. "Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? Do you have some split-fucking-personality disorder that I haven't picked up on? Two years, Jennie! For two goddamn years I've given you everything... and you... you're just so fucking eager to throw it away!"

"Don't you dare say that! The last two years have meant everything to me!"

"Then act like it! Fucking Christ Almighty!"

"How am I supposed to act, Lisa? What do you want from me?"

She yells, "I want any part of you that you're willing to give me!"

We both fall quiet.

Breathing hard.

Staring each other down.

And her voice drops low. Defeated. "I'll take anything, Jennie. Just... don't tell me it's over. I won't accept that."

I fold my arms across my chest, and sarcasm crackles in the air like static. "You didn't seem to have a problem accepting it when your tongue was down that stripper's throat."

"Hypocrisy really isn't a good look for you, Jennie. You gutted me. I think you deserved a taste of your own fucked-up medicine."

You see it all the time. In celebrity magazines, on TV. One minute, couples are all soul mates, never felt this way before, jump up and down on Oprah's couch in love. And the next, they're at each other's throats—dragging out the lawyers to battle over money, or houses... or children. I always wondered how that happens.

Take a good look. This is how.

"Well, pat yourself on the back, Lisa. You wanted to hurt me? You did. Feel better now?"

"Yeah, I'm thrilled. A regular happy camper. Can't you tell?"

"Can you stop acting like a child for five minutes?"

"Depends. Can you stop acting like a heartless bitch?"

If she was close enough, I'd slap her. "I hate you!"

She smirks coldly. "Consider yourself lucky. I wish I could hate you—I prayed for it. To get you out of my system. But you're still there, under my skin, like some fatal fucking disease."

Have you ever worked on one of those crossword puzzles in the newspaper? And you're determined to finish it—you start off so sure that you can? But then it just gets too hard. Too exhausting. So you give up. You're just... done.

I press a hand to my forehead. And even though I try to put up a strong front, my voice comes out small. "I don't want to do this anymore, Lisa. I don't want to fight. We can go around and around like this all day, but it's not gonna change a thing. I won't have half a relationship with you. It's nonnegotiable."

"Bullshit! Everything is negotiable. It just depends on how far the parties are willing to bend." And then she's begging. "And I will, Jennie—I'll bend. Hate me all you fucking want, but... don't... leave me."

And she sounds so despondent. Desperate. I have to stop myself from comforting her. From giving in, from saying yes. A few days ago, I would have. I would have jumped at the chance to eat her crumbs. To keep her in my life—any way I could.

But not today.

Because this isn't just about me anymore. "I'm a package deal now. You have to want both of us."

Her fists flail in the air, searching for something to hit. "What the fuck are you talking about?" she roars. "It's like I'm stuck in some screwed-up Tim Burton movie, where nothing makes sense! None of this makes any fucking sense!"

"I'm talking about the baby! I won't bring a baby into a relationship where he's not wanted! It's not fair. It's not right."

I didn't think it was possible for a person to be any paler than Lisa was when she first got here, and still be alive. But I was wrong. Because her face just got whiter. About two shades.

"What baby? What are you..." She scrutinizes me, trying to see the answer before she asks, "Are you... pregnant?"

Kind of makes you wonder just how hard Jisoo hit her, huh?

"Of course I'm pregnant!"

She takes a step forward. And her face looks like one of those theater masks, horror and hope side by side. "Is it mine?"

I don't answer right away because I'm so surprised by the question.

"Who... who else's would it be?"

"Bob's," she says matter-of-factly. Like she actually believes I know what she's talking about.

"Bob?"

"Yes, Jennie—Bob. The guy who means everything to you. Obviously you've been fucking him, so how the hell do you know the baby's not his?"

I flip through my mental Rolodex, looking for a Bob, trying to figure out why in God's name Lisa thinks I'd be fucking him. "The only Bob I know... is Roberta."

That takes the wind right out of her sails. "Who?"

"Roberta Chang. Bobbie—Bob. I went to school with her. She's an ob-gyn. You saw me go into her office the night you followed me. That's how you knew..."

Her eyes widen, thinking. And then she shakes her head in disbelief.

In denial.

"No. No—I saw you with a guy. You were meeting him. He picked you up and hugged you. He kissed you. He had food."

It takes me a moment to process her words, and then I remember. "Oh—that was Daniel. Roberta's husband. He lived with us in during undergrad too. They just moved to the city a few months ago. I told you about them."

Lisa's expression is unreadable. Then she takes a hand and rubs it down her face—hard—like she wants to scrape off skin. "Okay, just... go with me here for a second. When you wrote the name Bob in your calendar, you were talking about Roberta, who's a woman and a baby doctor that you went to school with in Philadelphia?"

"Yes."

"And the guy that I saw you with, in the parking lot, is her husband and also an old friend of yours?"

"Yes."

Her voice is tight. Strained. "And you think we've been fighting this whole time because...?"

"Because you don't want me to have the baby."

Have you ever seen a skyscraper demolished? I have. It implodes. From the top down, so as not to damage the buildings beside it. And that's exactly what Lisa does. Right in front of my eyes. She crumbles.

Her legs give out and she falls to her knees. "Oh, God... Jesus Christ... I can't believe... fuck... I'm an idiot... so fucking stupid..."

And I go down with her. "Lisa? Are you all right?"

"No... no, Jennie... I'm so far from all right, it's scary."

I grab her hands and her eyes meet mine. And just like that—it all makes sense. Finally.

The things she did.

The things she said.

It all falls into place like the last piece of a mosaic.

"You thought I was having an affair?"

She nods. "Yeah."

The world spins and I'm barely breathing. "How could you think that? How could you ever believe I would cheat on you?"

"There was a guy's name in your calendar... and you lied... and I saw you hugging that man. How could you think I wouldn't want a baby? Our baby?"

"You told me to have an abortion."

Her hands tighten around mine. "I would never say that to you."

"You did. You told me to end it."

She shakes her head and groans. "End the affair, Jennie. Not the baby."

My chin rises defensively. "But I wasn't having an affair."

"Well, I didn't fucking know that."

"Well, you fucking should have!!"

I tear my hands from her and push her on her shoulders. "God, Lisa!" I stand up, needing to get away from her, because it's all too much. "You can't treat people like this! You can't treat me like this!"

"Jennie, I'm—"

I whirl around and point a finger at her. "If you tell me you're sorry, I will kick your balls up into your eye sockets, I swear to God!"

She closes her mouth. Smart move.

I push my hair out of my face. And pace.

Am I supposed to feel better now? Because it really was all just a mistake?

If a house gets destroyed by lightning, do you think the owners are cheered by the fact that the lightning didn't mean to strike their house?

Of course not.

Because the damage is already done.

"You ruined it, Lisa. I was so excited to tell you... and now whenever I think about it, all I'll remember is how horrible this has all been!" I stop pacing. And my voice trembles. "I needed you. When I saw the blood... when they told me I was losing the baby..."

Lisa reaches for me, still on her knees. "Baby, I don't know what you're saying..."

"Because you weren't here! If you'd been here then you'd know, but you weren't! And..." My voice cracks and tears blur my vision. "And you promised. You promised you wouldn't do this..." I cover my face with my hands, and I cry.

I cry for every second of useless pain. For the crevasse that's still between us—and for the stupid choices that created it. And I don't mean just her. I'm a big girl—I can take my share of the blame.

Lisa may have pulled the trigger, but I loaded the gun.

"Jennie... Jennie, please..." She holds her hand out to me. "Please, Jennie."

She looks shattered. And I know, then and there, that I'm not the only one who's suffered.

Still, I shake my head. Because do-overs only exist in playground games. Real life doesn't have take-backs.

"No, Lisa." I turn my back on her and walk toward the car. But I only make it a few steps before I pause and look back.

Can you see her?

On her knees, her head in her hands. Like a man waiting for the executioner.

When I think of Lisa, two words always stand out: passion and pride. They're ingrained. Who she is. Arguments, work, love—it's all the same to her. Full steam ahead. No hesitation, no holding back. And Lisa knows what she's worth. She doesn't settle; she doesn't compromise. She doesn't have to.

"Why are you here?" I whisper, so low I don't know if she'll even hear me.

But her head snaps up. "What do you mean?"

"You thought I cheated on you?"

She grimaces. "Yes."

"You thought I could be in love with someone else?"

She nods.

"But you came... for me. Why?"

Her eyes drift across my face. It's the way she looks at me in the morning, when she wakes up before I do. It's the way she watches me, when she thinks I'm not looking.

"Because I can't live without you, Jennie. I don't even know how to try."

I was in advanced placement English in high school. For weeks, we analyzed Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. In most of it, Heathcliff is the villain. He's ruthless, often cruel. And as a reader, you're supposed to hate him.

But I never could. Because in spite of all his despicable actions, he loved Cathy so much.

Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you... I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!

Some of you are going to say that I should've punished Lisa more. But she'll do a better job of that than I ever could. Others are going to say that I should've made her work for it more. But we all know that she would have.

And sometimes, forgiveness is selfish. We give it not because it's earned, but because it's what we need. To find peace. To be whole.

I can live without Lisa Manoban. I know that, now. But if given the choice?

I won't ever want to.

There's only a dozen steps separating us, and I run every one of them. I throw myself at her, and she catches me. She wraps her arms around me and holds me so tight, I can't get air in my lungs. But it doesn't matter. Because Lisa is holding me—who needs to breathe?

"I'm sorry, Jennie... God, I'm so fucking sorry." She sounds forlorn.

And tears well up in my eyes. "I didn't think we'd ever... when you said..."

"Shh... I didn't mean it. I swear on Mackenzie I didn't mean any of it. I never wanted to..." She buries her face in my neck, and her regret leaks from her eyes and soaks into my shirt.

I press closer against her. "I know, Lisa. I know you didn't."

Her hands run through my hair—they caress my face, my arms, my back. "I love you, Jennie. I love you so much."

Last year, Lisa and I went to Japan. One day we stopped in a bonsai tree shop. They're kind of strange-looking, don't you think? With their stunted trunks and twisted branches. The shop owner told us that it's the knots and twists that make them strong, that keep from splintering even during the harshest storm.

That's what Lisa and I are like.

Her lips touch my forehead, my cheeks. She holds my face in her hands, and I frame her with mine. And we kiss. Our mouths move in sync—fierce and bruising, tender and slow. And all the rest, every injury, every harsh word, melts away like snow in the sunlight.

They don't matter. Because we're together. We'll find our way.

Lisa presses her forehead against mine, then her hand covers my stomach. Her touch is reverent and her voice is awed. "Are we really having a baby?"

I laugh, even though the tears are still falling. "Yeah. We are. Do you really want to?"

She wipes the wetness from my cheeks. "With you? Are you crazy? It's one of the few fantasies I have left. I'd have twenty kids with you—give those freaky Duggar people a run for their money."

I laugh again, and it feels so good. So right. I lay my head on Lisa's shoulder. Her face rests against my hair, breathing it in.

And then she vows, "It's okay, Jennie. We're gonna be okay now."

And I believe her.