“Scott.” Penelope’s voice is sharp with anticipation. “I’d think very carefully about what you’re about to do. My husband, the mayor, takes a very dim view of assault.”
Scott stops. The muscle in his jaw is twitching. He looks like he wants to punch David more than he’s ever wanted anything.
But Penelope has her phone out. Of course she does.
“This is quite the scene,” she says, clearly recording.
I find my voice. “Penelope. Put the phone away.”
“Why should I? This is fascinating. You rejected me from your little book club, but now I get a front-row seat to the real drama.”
“This has nothing to do with book club.”
“It has everything to do with it. You and your friends, thinking you’re so special with your secret meetings and your inside jokes. Well, look at you now.” She gestures at the chaos—me with sand in my hair, Scott vibrating with rage, David smirking like he’s won something. “Not so perfect after all.”
David laughs. “Same old Jessica. Always finding a man to rescue her. Always letting someone else solve her problems.”
“That’s not?—”
“Your landlord bought your building. Your boyfriend owns your livelihood. And you didn’t even know.” He shakes his head with the same disappointed condescension I remember from our marriage. “You never change, do you? Always the damsel. Always needing someone to take care of you.”
“That’s enough,” Scott snaps.
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just the latest in a long line of men who think Jessica needs saving. And she lets you believe it because it’s easier than standing on her own two feet.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
Because some small, terrible part of me wonders if he’s right.
Scott bought my building. He made decisions about my life, my business, my future—and he didn’t tell me. He just... handled it. Like I couldn’t handle it myself.
Just like David used to handle our finances, our social calendar, everything, while I just...went along with it.
“Jessica.” Scott’s voice is soft now, the anger draining into something more desperate. “It’s not like that. I was trying to help. I love you.”
“You bought my building without telling me.”
“Because I knew you’d refuse. I knew you’d see it as charity.”
“It is charity. Or control. I can’t tell which is worse.”
“Neither. It’s—I was protecting you.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me!” The words explode out of me. “I didn’t ask you to buy my building or fix my problems or make decisions about my life without consulting me! I spent ten years with a man who did exactly that, and I promised myself never again!”
Scott flinches like I’ve slapped him.
David looks satisfied. Penelope is still recording.
And I am standing on a beach with sand in my hair and a broken umbrella at my feet and the realization that I fell in love with a man who sees me as someone who needs saving.
Just like David always said.
“Jessica, please—” Scott reaches for me.
I step back. “Don’t.”
“Can we just talk? Away from—” He gestures at David and Penelope.
