Chapter 1 Game Over, Jake

"Do you think he's going to like the gift I got him for our anniversary?" I asked my best friend, Laura, over the phone. "Yes, he will. You spent more than half of your salary on those Air Force Ones—he better love them, or I'm going to gut him," she responded. I was approaching the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Jake, holding a shopping bag in one hand and a cake box in the other. Jake and I had been together for three years, and today was our anniversary. He had been acting suspiciously for about two months now, and something told me today was the day he was going to pop the big question. He had traveled three days ago and promised he’d be back today for our anniversary. "Laura, I can't wait for him to propose. I just know he's going to do it today." I giggled, pulling my keys from my bag. "Babe, he will. Trust me. I hope you got your nails done because you better send me fire pictures." "I will." I slid the key into the lock and turned it, but the door was already open. "That's odd. The door wasn't locked." "What?! Did you lock it before leaving for work?" Laura asked, her tone laced with concern. My heart began to thump loudly. What if there was an intruder in my home? What if I'd been robbed? "I distinctly remember locking it. Oh God, what's going on?" My anxiety spiked. "Becca, calm down. It could be Jake. Maybe he came back early from his trip and decided to surprise you. Don’t panic yet." I took a deep breath. Laura was right—it was probably Jake. "You're right. Just stay on the call in case you hear me scream; call the cops immediately." I nudged the door open. A burnt smell filled the air—like someone had just failed miserably at cooking. My gut clenched. Voices. Laughing. Then—a soft moan. I took a slow step inside. Clothes. Scattered all over the floor. Not just any clothes. Men’s jeans. A woman’s blouse. A bra. My breath shallowed. My hands turned ice cold. My blood boiled. Different thoughts raced through my mind. Who had brought their partner into my apartment to have sex? My younger cousin, who had a spare key? Jake's younger brother and his new situation? I saw red and began to stomp toward the bedroom, but then I heard it. "Babe, I can't wait for you to break up with your girlfriend tonight." My heart sank. I knew that voice well enough. It was Jake's assistant, Christabel. She was also supposed to be on the business trip with Jake. I tiptoed to the door and gripped the knob, pressing my ear against the wooden surface. "Baby, tonight it’ll all be over. I was just with her because the sex was hot, but after her parents died, she became cold as ice. I wanted to end things with her then, but it would’ve made me look like a terrible person," Jake said. My knees buckled. I almost collapsed but steadied myself. "I love you so much, babe." Christabel giggled. "I love you and our baby more," Jake responded. Then—kissing sounds. Baby. Our baby. My world tilted. Jake had gotten her pregnant. A sob threatened to tear through me, but I clamped my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely see. I needed to get out of there. Grabbing my things, I quietly ran out of the apartment. Outside, I crumbled to the ground and sobbed my heart out. ********** Jake had reserved a table for us at O'Reilly’s, a popular restaurant. I didn't want to go after finding out he was cheating, but Laura forced me. "You have to get your revenge, Becca. You can't let him win," she growled, pushing me out of her apartment after I had sobbed for over an hour. Now, I sat at the restaurant in a red dress with a deep cut at the back and a small V-neck that hinted at my cleavage, waiting for Jake. He arrived and sat down. "Babe, I'm so sorry I'm late. I just got back from the airport. I came straight here." Liar. I forced a smile, my jaw aching from the effort. "Thank you, my love." We ordered. I made sure to pick the most expensive dish on the menu. If he was going to waste my years, I was going to bleed his wallet dry. Halfway through, he wiped his lips and took a deep breath. "Babe, I—" "I'm breaking up with you." Jake blinked, stunned. "What?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "We don’t suit each other. The sex is terrible. So… I’m done." I stood up, smoothing my dress. The restaurant had gone quiet. His mouth opened, but no words came out. I could see the panic settling in. I took a slow sip of wine, savoring it, then leaned in and whispered just for him, "By the way, Christabel isn’t the only one you’ve been screwing, is she?" His face drained of color. Gotcha. Straightening up, I said loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear: "I hope the other women you knocked up don’t mind sharing child support, Jake. Might want to start saving up." Gasps erupted around us. A woman choked on her drink. A waiter stumbled mid-step. Jake shot up. "Becca, what the hell—" I picked up my glass and tossed the wine in his face. The deep red splattered across his white shirt, spreading like a bloodstain. I smiled sweetly. "Happy anniversary, babe." Then, without a single glance back, I turned and strutted out of the restaurant. As I pushed open the door into the night, whispers and muffled laughs followed me. A wicked smile curled on my lips. Game over, Jake. Or maybe… The game was just beginning.