“Define okay,” I said, stirring my latte unnecessarily. “The weekend was great. Vaughn is... he’s really great.”
“But?”
I hesitated. Emma knew about my past—knew I’d left a relationship in Oregon because the guy had cheated on me. But she didn’t know the details. Didn’t know about the MC, the club girls, the whole world I’d escaped from. I’d kept that part deliberately vague, not wanting to explain the lifestyle, not wanting to see the judgment in her eyes.
“I got a letter yesterday,” I said finally. “From my ex.”
Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “The one from Oregon? The one you left because—”
“Because he was cheating on me, yes.” I pulled the letter from my purse and slid it across the table. “I need an objective opinion.”
Emma took the letter, her expression shifting from curiosity to protectiveness. I watched her read, saw the way her jaw tightened at certain parts, the way her eyes widened at others. When she finished, she read it again, slower this time.
“Wow,” she said finally.
“That’s it? Wow?”
“I mean... this isn’t what I expected from a guy who cheated on you.” She refolded the letter carefully, handling it like it was something fragile. “It’s actually pretty mature. Self-aware. He’s not making excuses or trying to get you back. He’s just... apologizing.”
“That’s what I thought. Which is why I’m confused.”
“Because?”
“The man I knew wasn’t capable of this kind of self-reflection.” I took the letter back, running my fingers over thecrisp edges. “He was arrogant, entitled, convinced that his way of life was normal and I was the problem for not accepting it. He came from this whole... culture where men did whatever they wanted and women were expected to put up with it. It was like they lived in a different world with different rules.”
Emma leaned back in her chair, studying me. “You’ve never really told me much about him.”
“I know.” I sighed. “It’s complicated. He was part of... a motorcycle club. Not just a member—the president. It came with a whole lifestyle, a whole set of expectations. There were women who hung around the club, available to anyone who wanted them. It was considered normal for the men to sleep with them, even if they had girlfriends or wives.”
“Jesus.” Emma’s eyes went wide. “And you put up with that?”
“I didn’t know.” The shame of it still burned, even after all the time that had passed. “He was always respectful around me. Never touched another woman in front of me. I thought I was special. Until I walked in on him fucking another woman.” I laughed bitterly. “I was just naive.”
“You weren’t naive. You were trusting someone who didn’t deserve it. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
Emma reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Indira. He lied to you. He hid who he really was. That’s on him, not you.”
I nodded, but the guilt still lingered. All those signs I’d ignored. All those moments when something had felt off and I’d talked myself out of my own instincts.
“The thing is,” I said slowly, “I saw him. A few weeks ago, in Montana.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “What? When? How?”
“Jessica’s bachelorette trip. Remember how we went to that bar in Whitefish after we spent the day skiing?” Emma nodded. “He was there.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. We just... saw each other. Made eye contact a few times.” I paused, remembering the weight of his gaze across the crowded bar. “But something happened that I can’t stop thinking about. These two women approached him—the kind of groupies I was telling you about. They were all over him, touching him, obviously offering... well. You know.”
“And?”
“He walked away. Turned them down flat and walked away.”
Emma was quiet for a moment, processing this. “Well, damn.”
“It is. The Dutch I’d built up in my head after catching him with Crystal—that version of him would never turn down available women. It was like breathing to him.” I took a sip of my latte, which had gone cold while we talked. “Seeing him reject them like that... it messed with my head. And now this letter, saying all the things I never thought he’d say...”
