Chapter 30
Shay-Lee
A fter he punched Camilo, Jordan fled the party. I didn’t want to go after him, yet I did, and only because I knew I had to put an end to this mess. While driving back home, I thought I’d be more nervous and anxious, but I wasn’t. It might sound harsh, but currently, instead of thinking about Jordan, my mind was occupied with Camilo and how he’d held back from returning the punch.
The Camilo of five years ago would have, without a doubt, gotten into a fight with Jordan. But tonight, he held back from doing so, and seeing him manage to restrain himself made me so damn proud I could cry.
Shit . I had actual tears in my eyes right now. How fucking pathetic . But knowing how much Camilo hated this rage he held within himself and how he struggled to contain it, the fact that he did it under such circumstances was everything . And I was happy because I could only imagine how proud he was of himself.
As I reached our driveway, I saw Jordan’s car parked next to the house, which was a good thing as I feared he might have gone someplace else. After parking my Bugatti, I got out and went straight inside, where I found Jordan sitting by the kitchen island with an open bottle of scotch next to him. He didn’t say a word, so I walked over there and, after grabbing a glass for myself, sat on the stool beside him. Taking the scotch, I poured myself a glass and then handed him the bottle. Still not speaking to one another, Jordan grabbed the liquor. He held it in his hand for a few moments before taking a swig. As he did, I also took a small sip, hoping it would give me some courage for the heavy conversation I knew we were about to have.
“You cheated on me, didn’t you?” he asked before I reached the bottom of my glass.
His question felt heavy, almost as much as my answer. Taking the last sip from my drink, I savored the burn of the alcohol before nodding.
“I did.”
Not saying anything, he returned the bottle to his lips and took a long gulp.
“For how long?” he rasped.
Clenching my glass harder, I twisted my lips, considering if I should lie or not, when I chose the truth.
“We first slept together in Thailand.”
He stayed silent.
From the corner of my eye, I could see his jaw tensing, and I pressed my lips together before looking at him. “I’m sorry, Jordan, I’m really sorry.” I placed my hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away.
“But you’re not.” He finally looked at me, his eyes red from crying. “You’re not sorry. You never have been. Not even a bit .” He hissed that last word and stood up from the barstool so quickly that it fell backward.
The sound of the metal hitting the floor startled me, and I looked down before my eyes darted back to Jordan, who now practically loomed over me.
“You were never sorry about anything you ever did to me.” He placed his hand on the counter while bending down so he was in my face.
His cologne, which I often found pleasant, was now suffocating, while the look in his angry eyes made me feel so small and vulnerable that my heart sank to my stomach, and I felt like puking the scotch I just drank.
“Jordan, I get that you’re mad, but can you take a step back—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he shouted.
Shocked by this outburst, I was left with my mouth open as he finally stepped away and turned his back to me.
“Just for once, I wish you actually cared about me, but you don’t.” He lifted the barstool from the floor and put it back in place. “You really don’t give a crap about me or anyone else because you’re a selfish son of a bitch.”
“I know that you’re mad, but you can’t speak to me like that.” I got up so he wouldn’t be the only one standing.
“You think I’m just mad?”
Swallowing hard, I forced my eyes down. “I’m sorry for sleeping with Camilo, but please, let’s not make it worse—”
Before I could finish my words, Jordan reached for the scotch, turned around, and tossed the bottle at me. If it wasn’t for me ducking at the last second, the bottle would have hit me, but instead, it missed my face and smashed against the wall. Shocked, I looked at the broken glass and spilled drink before glancing back at him. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breaths growing heavy with fear.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he immediately said, looking at the floor.
“You shouldn’t have,” I agreed, still appalled .
His mouth opened and closed a few times before he walked toward me.
“But that’s okay. We both did things we shouldn’t have, right?” He grabbed my arms. “We can both look away from each other’s mistakes.” His grip tightened. “We just need to look the other way, and it will all be fine.”
Dredging silence broke between us, so only his breathing filled the tense atmosphere until I spoke.
“I don’t want to look the other way.”
His forehead creased, almost like he couldn’t believe my words. “But why? I’m telling you I’m fine with you cheating as long as you don’t end this.”
What the hell?
“We’re going to get married, Shay-Lee. I’m not giving up on you just because of a small slip.” His lips trembled while he tried swallowing back his tears. “We all make mistakes, but love means forgiving. Right? I mean, I forgave you.” He ducked a bit closer. “I forgave you for using me the way you did. I forgave you for leaving me in that hospital and betraying me. I forgave you for breaking my heart… not once but twice.” He placed his hand against my cheek, his fingers quivering. “I even forgave you for turning me this crazy, so who gives a shit about some broken glass.”
I looked back at that said glass. Only that it wasn’t just a few pieces of broken glass but the result of a bottle he threw at me. A bottle he aimed to hurt me with. What if I didn’t duck in time and it hit me in the face? Ha . I was hurt one too many damn times in my life by people who claimed to love me to look the other way.
I will not be abused ever again.
“You’re so out of line,” I hissed through gritted teeth before forcing his hands off me. “And even though I’ve hurt you many times before, including now, it still doesn’t give you permission to raise your hand to me.” I had no idea where I found the courage to speak out right then, but I did, and I had no intention of stopping. “ I admit that I cheated, and I take responsibility for it, but you won’t manipulate me over what happened years ago.”
And I wasn’t only talking about what happened just now, but about yesterday, too, when we fought over Soren’s party and even before that. Yes , I’d done awful shit in my life and was the furthest thing from a decent human being, but it didn’t give Jordan the right to use my wrongdoings against me. For fuck’s sake, engaged or not, I owed him nothing. Same as I didn’t owe anything to my dad, who’d made it his life’s mission to gaslight the shit out of me until I doubted what was true or not. And it worked. It worked because until right this moment, I believed I deserved everything they did to me. But I didn’t. No one fucking did.
“What the fuck are you saying?” Jordan asked, and his whining snapped me back to the present.
Without thinking twice, I took off his ring, which, until now, hadn’t even weighed on my finger.
“I’m saying that we’re over.” I put the ring in his hand.
Jordan glared at the ring in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” He clenched his fist. “You can’t fucking be serious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“ What about our house? The one we’re building?”
“You can have it,” I said with a straight face.
“You can have it…” Biting his lip, he shook his head. “Screw you, Shay-Lee,” he roared, pointing his finger in my face. “You’re a fucking piece of shit. A selfish fucker who lies through his teeth and deserves everything he’s gotten in his life.”
So, I finally get to see his true colors.
“Wow.” Pursing my lips together, I dropped my head down before smiling to myself. “Thank you for making this a hell of a lot easier.” I looked up to meet his pitiful eyes. “Have an awesome life, fucker.” I flipped him the finger, and then, without wasting another second in this fake relationship, I walked out of the house. If this was what he thought about me all along, I should have ended this a long time ago. Fuck that . I should have never agreed to be with him in the first place.
I pulled out my car keys and opened it when he dashed out of the house.
“Shay-Lee, wait, please.”
“You’re wasting your breath, Jordan,” I told him, not bothering to look behind and instead opened the door and got inside the car.
“Please,” he called out as the headlights flashed him. Holding his hand in front of his eyes, he went on. “Please, just get inside, and we’ll talk. I promise it won’t ever happen again.”
“Yeah, sure.” I snorted, then reversed out of there because if there was one thing I knew, it was that if he raised his hand to you once, it wouldn’t be the last time. The first time my father slapped me when I was a kid, he promised not to do it again. Not only did he lie, but each time he hit me afterward was a dozen times more painful. And why? Because each time, a small part of me dared to believe it would be the last. Until now, I might have given Jordan the benefit of the doubt, but not anymore. I wasn’t saying he was as bad as my dad, but over my dead body was I willing to stay long enough to find out.