Page 157 of Better When Shared
"I've had enough," I said, my voice quiet but carrying the kind of authority that made clients sit up and pay attention. "I'm done watching you hurt people who don't deserve it. I'm done cleaning up your messes. And I'm especially done watching you treat someone like Gemma as if she's just another mark in whatever con you're running."
Jake's face went through a series of expressions—surprise, indignation, and finally something like panic. "I don't know what you're talking about. Gemma and I were engaged. We were supposed to get married."
"Were you?" I asked, my voice taking on the same tone I used when reviewing suspect financial documents. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you targeted a successful woman, convinced her to pay for an expensive cruise, then disappeared when it came time to actually commit. That's not love, Jake. That's fraud."
The accuracy of my assessment hit home. I watched his carefully constructed facade crack, revealing the desperate man underneath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment I thought he might actually try to hit me. Instead, he deflated, his shoulders sagging with the weight of whatever lies he'd been carrying.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm in trouble, Brian. Real trouble. I owe people money, and they're not the kind of people who accept payment plans. That’s why I left for Bali."
"How much?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer would be devastating.
"Fifty thousand. Maybe more with interest." The words came out in a rush, like he was afraid that saying them slower would make them more real. "I thought... I thought if I could get Gemma to the altar, maybe I could figure something out. Access to her accounts, or at least buy myself some time. But they came after me before I could."
The casual way he talked about exploiting someone who'd trusted him made my vision go red around the edges. I took a step closer, using my slight height advantage to loom over him the way I had when we were kids and he'd done something particularly stupid.
"Fifty thousand dollars," I repeated, my voice deadly quiet. "And your solution was to con an innocent woman into marriage."
"She's not innocent," Jake said, desperation making him cruel. "She's a businesswoman. She knows how these things work."
"No," I said, my voice cutting through his justifications like a blade. "She's a woman who deserves to be loved for who she is, not what she can provide. She's brilliant and passionate and generous, and she trusted you with her heart. That's not something you exploit—that's something you protect."
Jake stared at me, something like recognition flickering in his eyes. "You're fucking her."
"I'm in love with her," I corrected, letting the words hang between us like a challenge.
“Then why the fuck were you kissing my best friend?”
I shrugged, a confident smirk tilting the corners of my mouth. "I’m in love with him, too. What I have with him? It’s what an actual relationship looks like, Jake. Not whatever twisted arrangement you were planning."
For a moment, we stood in silence, the weight of years of disappointment and enabling stretching between us. I could see him calculating, trying to figure out if there was an angle he could work, some way to turn this situation to his advantage. The realization that he was still scheming, even now, made my decision easier.
I reached for my wallet, pulling out my spare apartment key and three hundred dollars in cash. "Here's what's going to happen,"I said, pressing both into his hands. "You're going to take this money and get a hotel room for tonight. Tomorrow, you're going to fly to Philadelphia and move into my condo. I’ll cover the association fees for now, but eventually you’re going to have to cover that. Then get a fucking job and start paying those assholes back. Everything you owe."
Jake's eyes widened, his fingers closing around the key and cash with desperate gratitude. "Brian, I can't—"
"You can, and you will," I said firmly. "But there are conditions. You get a job—a real job, not some get-rich-quick scheme. You pay your debts honestly, even if it takes years. And you stay the hell away from Gemma and anyone else you might be tempted to use."
"What about you?" he asked, his voice small. "Where will you live?"
I glanced over toward the luggage area, where I could see Enzo and Gemma waiting for me with matching expressions of concern and love. The sight of them together—my chosen family, my future—made my chest tight with emotion.
"I'll figure it out," I said, turning back to Jake.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have convinced him that this was the best deal he was going to get. He pocketed the cash and key, his shoulders straightening slightly as some of the desperate panic left his features.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and for a moment he sounded like the brother I'd grown up with instead of the stranger he'd become. "I know I don't deserve this."
"No," I agreed, "you don't. But Mom will be heartbroken if something happens to you. Don't make me regret this, Jake."
He nodded, then turned and walked away without looking back. I watched him disappear into the crowd, feeling a complex mix of relief and sadness. The brother I'd known was gone, had been gone for years. But maybe, with enough time and distance, he could become someone worth knowing again.
As I turned, I saw that Enzo and Gemma were standing much closer than I’d expected. They’d heard everything.
And Gemma's face was pale as Mediterranean marble, her green eyes wide with the kind of shock that comes from having your entire reality rewritten in real time. She stood frozen, her elegant posture rigid with the effort of processing what she'd obviously overheard. Enzo's hand rested protectively on her shoulder, but his dark eyes were fixed on me with a mixture of concern and something that looked dangerously like pride.
“You love us?” she whispered.
Not where I’d expected her to go with that. And I felt instantly bashful, scratching the back of my head as I looked anywhere but at them. “Um, yeah. And sorry about Jake—”
