Page 47 of Hard to Love

My first heartbreak.

The first female who proved my dad and all his crazy nonsense about women to be true.

“Look at you!” she says, her hands on my biceps as she takes me in. “How are you? What—I mean, there are so many questions that I don’t even know which one to ask first.”

I have a million too, but none are as benign as how are you?

“I’m good,” I say, glancing over to Gabe and holding my finger up to let him know to hold on a minute. The last thing I need him to think is that I’m hitting on Molly and not being a wingman, but truth be told, this whole setup just crashed and burned. “And you?”

“I am too. I’m studying for the bar exam. Corporate law.” She shakes her head. “This is just so crazy seeing you again after all these years. Tell me all about you.”

I’m typically a guy that isn’t fazed by much. I’ve been slapped by dates who are pissed at me, told to go to hell by females I’ve dumped, trolled on social media by women who can’t handle the fact that I moved on without them, but there’s something about seeing her that has me back in a past I’ve long since left behind.

That and there’s no way I’m setting her up with Gabe now. I know the irony is rich considering my long and sordid track record with women, but I don’t care.

“Finn? Is something—” Her smile falls and she rolls her eyes playfully. “You can’t still be mad at me. I’ve forgiven you, Finn.” At what must be a blank look, she continues. “I mean, what teenager wouldn’t take the hundred dollars and do that?”

“Hundred?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

But even before the words are out, I have a sinking feeling.

“The hundred dollars your dad offered me.”

My dad?

“Offered you to do what?”

Her face is a myriad of emotions as she stares at me—amusement turned to confusion, guilt meshed with time passed. “I’m sorry. Never mind I said anything.” Her smile is tight and the laugh she gives is fake as fuck.

It’s my hand on her bicep now. “Molly.” Her name is an exhausted sigh. “What did he offer you one hundred dollars for?”

“You really don’t know?” Her voice is soft, and I shake my head in response. “He told me that you were cheating on me and that you needed to be taught a lesson.” She shrugs as if to try and play it off. “He offered me one hundred dollars to make out with whoever I wanted so long as I was outside the gym at a certain time.”

But she was the rich girl and I was the broke boy. Her parents gave her everything she wanted . . . and yet the lure of one hundred dollars was more important to her than simply asking me for the truth.

“And you just believed him?” I ask. “You never thought to ask me? To confront me to see if—you know what?” I take a step back. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

You don’t matter.

With another shake of my head, I walk away from her feeling a million things, but two in particular stand out more than anything. My dad is definitely the bastard I know him to be—I just didn’t know how much.

And . . . he was right. Women will take or do anything to screw you over.

Life lesson learned.

Take everything at face value. Even women.

FINN

JUST GET ME ON THE fucking plane.

I’m done with this city. With the smoke and the raspy-voiced waitresses who come on too strong, and the people who choose not to sleep or bathe for days in a quest to earn the almighty dollar.

I want to earn that same dollar but do it while sitting at my house on the beach and negotiating for my clients over the phone.

I want to do it away from Stevie and all the errant thoughts that she caused while sitting in my hotel room last night.

The airport crowd isn’t bad for Vegas. People are dotted here and there, most sitting at the sports bar at the far end of the terminal, desperate to get one more drink, one more hand at electronic poker, one more connection, before returning to their boring, normal, everyday lives.