I needed to confront him, to demand explanations. But first, I had to gather myself, to collect the fragments of my shattered dignity. I couldn’t let him see me broken.
I steeled myself; the love I once felt had been replaced by a biting cold fury. Jake owed me some serious answers.
Upon his return, the apartment was eerily quiet, the tension palpable. He entered with a casual smile, unaware of the tempest inside me.
“Hey, Em. Missed you,” he greeted, shedding his coat.
“We need to talk,” I said, not mirroring his smile.
Jake’s smile waned. “What’s wrong?”
I presented the tablet, frozen on an image of him with one of the women. “Care to explain this?”
He glanced at the screen, then casually shrugged. “Emily, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They’re just friends.”
“Friends?” I retorted sharply. “Different women, each time I’m gone? Really, Jake?”
He sighed, ruffling his hair. “Look, Em, you’re being paranoid. These women mean nothing.”
“Nothing?” My voice escalated, fury piercing my feigned calm. “How can you say that?”
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