LISA

"I wish you could stay with me forever."

Jennie had said that against my chest. It's what I wanted to hear. It's what I need to hear, forever.

But why would she possibly want forever with me? What would that even be like? Jennie and I in our forties with no children, no marriage—just the two of us?

That would be perfect, for me. That would be my absolute ideal future, but I know that would never be enough for her. We've had the same argument too many times to count, and I know that she would be the first to cave, because I never would. Being an asshole means being the most stubborn. And she would give up having children and a marriage for me.

Besides, what kind of a parent would I be? A shitty one, that's for damn sure. I can't get through the question in my mind without laughing—it's ridiculous to even consider. As fucked-up as this trip has been, it's been a giant fucking wake-up call for me when it comes to my relationship with Jennie. I've always tried to warn her, tried to keep her from going down with me, but I never tried hard enough. If I'm being honest, I know I could have pushed harder to keep her safe from me, but, selfishly, I couldn't. Now seeing the way that her life will be with me, I have no other choice. This trip has cleared the romantic fog from my head, and miraculously, I have been granted the opportunity to have an easy way out. I can send her back to America, and she can get on with her life.

Jennie's future with me is nothing but a lonely, black hole for her. I would get everything I wanted from her—her constant love and affection for years and years—but she would be left unfulfilled, and as every year passes, she will resent me more and more for depriving her of what she truly wanted. I might as well cut out the middleman and save her the wasted time.

When I arrive at Gabriel's, I quickly throw Jennie's bag into the backseat and head back to Kimberly's hotel. I need a plan, a solid fucking plan that I will actually stick to. She is too stubborn and too in love with me to just give up on me.

That's her problem, she's one of those people who will give and give without taking, and the fucked-up truth is that people like her are the easiest prey for someone like me, who takes and takes until there is nothing left. That's what I have done since the beginning, and that's what I will always do.

She will try to convince me otherwise; I know she will. She will say that marriage isn't important anymore, but she would just be lying to herself to keep me around. That says a lot about me, that I have manipulated her into loving me so unconditionally. The masochist in me starts to doubt her love as I drive.

Does she love me as much as she says, or is she addicted to me? There is a heady difference, and the more shit she puts up with from me, the more it seems like an addiction, the thrill of waiting for me to fuck up again so she can be there to fix me.

That's what this is: she must see me as a project, someone she can fix.

The conversation has come up before, more than once, but she refused to admit it.

I fish through my memories for a specific encounter and finally find it floating somewhere in my muddled, hungover brain.

IT WAS RIGHT AFTER MY MUM LEFT to go back to Thailand after Christmas, and Jennie had looked up at me with worried eyes. "Lisa?"

"Yeah?" I had asked, speaking through the pen between my teeth.

"Will you help me take this tree down when you're finished working?"

I wasn't actually working; I was writing, but she didn't know that. We had had a long and interesting day. I had caught her coming back from lunch with fucking Taehyung, and then I'd bent her over her desk and fucked her senseless.

"Yes, just give me a minute." I tucked the pages away, afraid that she would see them while cleaning up, and stood to help her take down the tiny tree she'd decorated with my mum.

"What are you working on anyway? Is it anything good?" She reached for the tattered binder she constantly complained about my leaving around the house. The coffee-cup rings and pen marks covering the weathered leather drove her insane.

"Nothing." I jerked it from her hands before she could open it.

She pulled back, obviously surprised and a little hurt by my actions.

"Sorry," she said quietly. A deep frown set across her beautiful face, and I tossed the binder on the couch and reached for her hands. "I was just asking. I didn't mean to pry or upset you."

Fuck, I was such a prick.

I still am.

"It's fine, just don't mess with my work shit. I don't . . ." I couldn't come up with an excuse as to why, because I hadn't stopped her in the past.

Whenever I came across a draft that I knew she would like, I would share it with her. She loved when I did that, and there I was scolding her for doing it now.

"Okay." She turned away from me and started to pull the ornaments off the hideous tree.

I stared at her back for a few minutes, wondering why I was so angry. If she read what I was writing, how would she feel? Would she like it? Or would she be appalled and throw a fit? I didn't know, and I still don't, which is why she still has no clue about it to this day.

"Okay? That's all you have to say?" I picked at her, wanting a fight.

Fighting was better than ignoring; shouts were better than silence.

"I won't mess with your things anymore," she said without turning to look at me. "I didn't know you would be so upset."

"I . . ." I struggled to find something to fight about. Then I just went for the bone. "Why are you even with me?" I asked roughly. "After everything that happened—is it the drama that you like?"

"What?" She spun around, a small snowflake ornament in her hands.

"Why are you starting a fight with me? I said I wouldn't touch your things

anymore."

"I'm not starting a fight," I lied. "I just want to know, because it seems like you are addicted to the drama and ups and downs more than anything." I knew it wasn't fair to say, but I said it anyway. I was in a mood and wanted her to join me.

She stepped toward me, dropping the ornament into the box next to the tree. "You know that isn't true. I love you, even when you are looking for a fight with me. I hate the drama; you know that. I love you for you, end of story." She leaned up on her toes to kiss my cheek, and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Why do you love me, then? I do nothing for you," I argued weakly. The scene I'd caused at Vance's earlier that day was fresh in my mind.

She took a patient breath and rested her head against my chest.

"This"—she tapped her index finger over my heart—"that's why. Now please stop trying to fight me. I have a paper to work on, and this tree won't put itself away."

She was so gentle with me, so understanding, even when I didn't deserve it.

"I love you," I said into her hair and moved my hands to her hips. She molded into me, letting me lift her into my arms, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her across the living room to the couch.

"I love you, always. Don't doubt me, I will always love you," she assured me, her mouth against mine.

I undressed her slowly, savoring every inch of her sexy curves. I loved the way her eyes went wide as I rolled the condom on. That same afternoon she had been nervous about fucking while on her period, but her chest was moving up and down with rapid jerks as I began to stroke myself in front of her. Impatient breaths and a small whine was all it took for me to stop teasing her. I moved between her thighs and pushed into her slowly. She was so wet and tight, I lost myself in her and I still can't remember how that damn tree got stored away.

I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS too much lately, dwelling on happy memories from my time with her. My hands are shaking, gripping the steering wheel as I pull myself from my mind; her moans and whimpers fade away as I force myself back to the present.

I'm waiting in a slow line of traffic, only a few miles away from Jennie. I need to solidify my plan and make sure her ass is on that plane tonight. It's a late flight, not departing until nine, so she will have plenty of time to make it to Airport. Kimberly will take her there; I know she will. My head still hurts—the liquor is making a slow departure from my body, and I still feel a little tipsy. Not so much so that I can't drive, but my mind isn't all there.

"Lisa!" a familiar voice says. The voice is muffled by my window, so I quickly roll it down. Every time I turn around, someone from my past is there, calling my name.

"Holy shit!" I yell to the car next to me. My old friend Mark is in the next lane. If this isn't a sign from above, I don't know what is.

"Pull over!" he shouts back, a wide grin spreading across his face.

I pull Vance's rental into the lot of an ice-cream shop, and he parks next to me. He's out of his piece-of-shit car before I am and rushes over to yank my door open.

"You're back and you didn't even tell me?" he yells, patting me on the shoulder. "And, damn, tell me this Beemer is a rental, or did you get rich on me?"

I roll my eyes. "Long story, but it's a rental."

"Are you back for good, or what?" His brown hair is cropped short now, but his eyes are just as glazed over as they always were.

"Yeah, I'm back for good," I answer, settling it. I'm staying here and she's going back, simple as that.

He studies my face. "Where are your fucking rings? You took them out?"

"Yeah, I got sick of them." I shrug, but examine his face. When he turns his head a little, the light catches two little studs beneath his lips. Damn, the kid got snakebites.

"Damn, Manoban, you look so different. It's fucking crazy. It's been, what, two years?" He throws his hands up. "Three? Hell, I've been high for the last ten years, so I couldn't tell you." He laughs and digs into his pocket to pull out a pack of smokes.

I decline when he offers me one, which earns me a raised brow. "What, you like straight edge now?" he accuses.

"No, I just don't want a fucking cigarette," I snap.

He laughs the way he always did when I would get this way. He was always the leader of our little group of delinquents, older than me by a year, but enough that I always looked up to him in a way and wanted to be like him. That's why when an even older guy named James came along and he and Mark started the games, I jumped right in. It didn't bother me the way they treated girls, even when they taped them without their knowledge.

"You're a bitch now, aren't you?" He smiles, his lit cigarette between his teeth.

"Fuck off. You're high right now, aren't you?" I knew he would always remain this way, always high and stuck in his glory days of fucking loads of chicks and staying high.

"Nah, I'm coming off of a long night, though." He grins, obviously proud of himself as he remembers whatever, or whoever, he did last night.

"Where you headed now? You staying at your mum's?"

My chest tightens at the mention of my mum and the house that I burned to the ground. I can feel the hot smoke on my cheeks and see the bright flames swallowing the house when I looked back before climbing into the car with Jennie. "No, I'm staying between places."

"Oh, got it." He doesn't get it, though. "If you need a place to crash, you can stay at my place. James is my roommate now—he'd get a kick out of seeing your grown ass, too. All Americanized and shit."

I can hear Jennie's voice in my head now, begging me not to go down this familiar, easy road, but I ignore her protests and nod at Mark. "I need a favor, actually."

"I can find you anything you need—James sells now!" Mark responds with some pride.

I roll my eyes. "That isn't what I mean. I need you to follow me to my hotel so I can drop something off, then take me to Gabriel's to get my car."

I will have to extend the rental time, if they'll allow it. I choose to ignore that an entire apartment and a car are back in Washington. I'll figure that shit out later.

"Then you'll come to my flat?" He stops. "Wait, who are you dropping shit off to?" Even high, he didn't miss that detail.

There is no fucking way in hell I'm telling Mark about Jennie, no fucking way. "Just some chick." I feel the burn in my throat as I lie about who Jennie is to me, but I need to protect her from this.

He walks back over to his car, pausing before he gets in. "She hot? I can wait outside if you need to fuck her again. Or maybe she'll let me—"

My vision goes red and I take a few breaths to calm down. "No. Fuck no. Not happening. You'll stay in the car. I'm not even going inside." When he doesn't look convinced, I add, "I mean it. If you get out of the fucking car and go anywhere near—"

"Dude, chill the fuck out! I'll stay in the car!" he shouts, and holds up his hands like I'm a cop.

He's still laughing and shaking his head as he follows me out of the parking lot and back onto the street.