Before I Hung Up, I Heard My Fiancée Laughing W/ Her Friends “The Idiot Doesn’t Know I’m Screwing…
Before I hung up, I overheard my fianceé laughing with her friends. The idiot doesn’t know I’m screwing his friend. I stayed quiet and did this. 3 days later, she showed up at my parents house screaming. My buddy Kevin said I needed to post this because apparently my life reads like a revenge movie script.
Now, what started as an accidental phone call turned into me dismantling everything my fiance thought she had. And the best part, I never raised my voice once. I’m Jake, 31 years old, and I work as a diesel mechanic at a trucking company here in Tennessee. Been turning wrenches since I was 16 when my old man taught me how to rebuild a carburetor in our garage.
Nothing fancy about my life. I’ve got a two-bedroom house that I bought foreclosed and fixed up myself, a 2019 F-150 that’s paid off, and until recently, a fiance named Britney, who I thought was the love of my life. The house was a mess when I bought it 3 years ago. Previous owners had let it go completely.
Roof leaking, foundation cracks, electrical that should have burned the place down. The inspector said he was surprised the place was still standing. Spent every weekend for 18 months ripping out drywall, rewiring outlets, and learning plumbing from YouTube videos. My dad came over most Saturdays to help, and we turned that disaster into something I’m actually proud of.
Three bedrooms, updated kitchen with actual granite counters I installed myself. new deck out back that wraps around to a fire pit area. The kind of place you could raise a family in. When I first walked through that house with the realtor, she kept apologizing. Water damage in the ceiling, mold in the bathroom, carpet that looked like someone had let a pack of wolves live there.
But I saw past all that. I saw the bones of the place. Solid construction from the 1960s when builders actually cared about quality, good lot size, mature trees in the backyard. Took me 18 months and about $40,000 in materials to turn it around. But I did every bit of the work myself except the HVAC. Some things you just don’t mess with unless you’re certified.
My job isn’t glamorous, but it pays well and I’m good at it. Diesel engines are like puzzles to me. When something’s wrong, I can usually hear it before I even pop the hood. The guys at the shop call me the whisperer because I diagnosed a failing injector once just by listening to the idol. Dorky nickname, but I’ll take it.
Started as a general mechanic right out of trade school. Worked my way up to lead tech on the heavy equipment side. Now I handle the big rigs, the semis that cost more than some houses. Point is, I’m not some rich executive or anything special. Just a regular dude who works hard and tries to do right by people.
The shop where I work is this old building on the edge of town. Been there since before I was born. Three bays for the trucks. Concrete floors stained with decades of oil. Industrial fans that barely move the summer heat. But the owner, a guy named Earl, keeps it running smooth and takes care of his people. When my dad had his surgery, Earl gave me a week off paid without me even asking.
When my buddy lost his wife to cancer, Earl organized a collection from all the guys, and we raised enough to cover the funeral expenses. That’s the kind of place it is. Met Britney about 2 and a half years ago at a mutual friends cookout. She was this gorgeous brunette with green eyes and a laugh that could light up a room.
worked as an office manager at a dental practice, which she complained about constantly, but it paid decent. We hit it off immediately. She said she loved that I was real, that I didn’t try to impress her with money or status, just showed up as myself. That first conversation lasted almost 3 hours.
We sat on lawn chairs by the cooler while everyone else played cornhole and talked about everything from favorite movies to childhood dreams to where we saw ourselves in 10 years. She wanted to travel, see the coast, maybe open a small business someday. I told her about the house I was renovating, how I dreamed of having somewhere permanent to call my own since I was a kid, watching my parents struggle with rent increases.
The early days were great. She’d come watch me work on projects around the house, ask questions about what I was doing, even helped me paint the spare bedroom, said she admired how I could fix anything with my hands. made me feel like some kind of superhero for knowing how to replace a garbage disposal. I taught her how to use a power drill properly, how to measure twice and cut once, all the basics my dad had taught me.
She seemed genuinely interested, like learning practical skills was some kind of adventure. We went hiking that first summer, hit every trail within an hour’s drive. I’d pack lunches and we’d find some spot with a view and just talk about life. She said I made her feel safe, grounded, like nothing bad couldhappen as long as I was around.
Coming from a string of relationships where I’d been told I was too serious or too boring, hearing someone actually appreciate my stability felt like a miracle. Her family welcomed me in fast. Her mom, Linda, was this sweet retired teacher who’d send me home with containers of her famous chicken casserole.
She’d ask about my projects, remember details about my job, treat me like I’d been part of the family for years instead of months. Her dad, Robert, was a former electrician, so we’d swap trade stories and he’d give me tips on projects. Guy had worked commercial for 30 years before retiring. Knew everything there was to know about panel upgrades and service changes.
Her younger brother, Ethan, looked up to me like an older brother he never had. I taught him how to change his own oil, and he acted like I’d handed him the keys to the kingdom. Robert and I spent a lot of time in his garage that first year. He had this old Mustang he’d been tinkering with since before Britney was born.
A 72 fastback that he swore he’d finish someday. We’d work on it together some weekends. Him teaching me things about classic cars that YouTube couldn’t. How to read the wear on brake pads. How to tune a carburetor by ear. How to spot rust that would spread versus rust you could treat. Linda would bring us sandwiches and shake her head at all the grease.
By month eight, Britney was staying at my place more than her apartment. By month 14, she’d moved in officially. And by month 20, I was picking out engagement rings because this woman made me believe in the whole white picket fence dream. Moving in together felt like the natural next step. She gave up her apartment. We merged our stuff.
Started talking about whose furniture to keep and whose to donate. Her couch was nicer than mine, so we kept that. My bed was newer, so we kept that. Little negotiations that felt like building something together rather than giving things up. I cleared out the spare room so she could have a workspace for her crafting stuff.
She was really into making candles for a while, then switched to jewelry. Kept cycling through hobbies looking for one that stuck. The ring cost me 4 months of overtime. A princess cut diamond that the jeweler said was exceptional quality, whatever that means. But it looked perfect. Saved nearly $8,000 by working every Saturday and picking up extra shifts when guys called out sick.
I had this whole proposal planned for our 2-year anniversary. rented out the back room at this Italian restaurant she loved. Arranged for her family to be hiding in the kitchen, ready to come out after she said yes. Even coordinated with her brother to make sure he could get off work. Organized it like a military operation because that’s how I do things.
The restaurant was called Santinos, this old place downtown that had been there since the 70s. Red checkered tablecloths, candles on every table, waiters who’d been working there for decades. Brittany had mentioned wanting to go there for months, but we never got around to it. Perfect spot for a proposal.
I put down a deposit for the private room 6 weeks in advance. Gave them a timeline of how everything would go. Even specified what music I wanted playing when her family came out. Looking back, the signs were there way before the phone call. I just didn’t want to see them. Around month 18, Britney reconnected with an old friend from high school named Corey.
He’d moved back to town after his divorce and was apparently going through a hard time. At first, she’d mention him casually. Cory needs someone to talk to. Cory’s having trouble adjusting to single life. Cory doesn’t have many friends here anymore. I even met the guy a few times. Seemed okay at first. Kind of quiet.
Worked some office job at an insurance company. Nothing remarkable. He was going through a rough patch after his wife left him for someone else, which is pretty ironic given what happened later. I actually felt sorry for him. Invited him to a barbecue we hosted. made an effort to include him in group outings because I knew how isolating divorce could be.
I didn’t think much of their friendship. Britney was a compassionate person. That was one of the things I loved about her. When my dad had his knee surgery, she took time off work to help my mom handle everything, drove him to his rehab appointments, picked up his prescriptions, even learned how to change his bandages.
When my buddy’s wife left him, Britney organized a whole support system to make sure he wasn’t alone. She cared about people. So, some old friend needing emotional support, that tracked, but then the pattern started shifting. She started being protective of her phone, would angle it away from me when texting, take calls in another room, always have it face down on surfaces.
If I walked into the room while she was texting, she’d flip the phone over or switch apps immediately. Little things I noticed but convincedmyself I was being paranoid about. We’d been together almost 2 years. We were planning a future. Why would I not trust her? Then came the girls nights that happened more frequently. Twice a week.
Sometimes she’d come home late, shower immediately, even if she’d already showered before leaving, and be too tired to talk. When I asked how her night was, I’d get these vague answers about where they went or what they talked about. Nothing specific enough to actually picture. If I asked follow-up questions, she’d get annoyed and tell me I was being controlling.
The physical distance crept in, too. We went from being all over each other to her always having a headache or being too stressed from work or too tired from whatever she’d been doing all day. I figured relationships go through phases, right? Can’t expect the honeymoon period to last forever. So, I gave her space, tried not to pressure her, focused on being supportive, told myself this was just a rough patch that every couple goes through.
I started noticing other things, too. She’d be more careful about her appearance when going out with friends than when we were going on actual dates. new outfits I’d never seen before, perfume she didn’t usually wear. Once she came home with a hickey on her neck and said she’d burned herself with a curling iron.
I believed her because the alternative was unthinkable. The real wakeup call came on a random Tuesday. I’d been working on a particularly nasty engine rebuild at the shop. This Peterbuilt that some owner operator had neglected for about a decade. Covered in grease, tired, just wanted to get home and decompress. Called Britney on my lunch break to ask what she wanted for dinner.
Figuring I’d pick something up on my way home, she answered on the third ring. Hey babe, what’s up? Normal voice. Nothing weird. Just checking what you want for dinner. I’m thinking maybe that Thai place you like. Oh, sounds good. I’m actually about to head into a meeting. Can I call you back? Sure thing. Love you.
Love you, too. Except she didn’t hang up. I could hear rustling like she’d shoved the phone in her purse or pocket without ending the call. I was about to hang up on my end when I heard her voice again. Muffled but clear enough. God, he’s so exhausting. Always checking in, always planning something.
It’s like dating a golden retriever. Female laughter. Then another voice I recognized as her friend Megan. At least golden retrievers are cute. Jake’s more like a rescue mut that follows you around constantly. More laughter. My stomach dropped. I actually had to sit down on a crate outside the shop because my legs felt like they might give out.
Then Britney’s voice clearer now like she’d moved the phone. The idiot doesn’t even know I’m screwing Cory. Every time I tell him I’m with you guys, I’m actually at Cory’s apartment three months now and he hasn’t suspected a thing. How do you keep a straight face? I’d feel so guilty. Honestly, it’s easy.
Jake’s so trusting it’s almost sad. Plus, Cory actually knows how to be spontaneous. Jake has to plan everything 2 weeks in advance, like we’re launching a space shuttle or something. What about the engagement? He’s definitely going to propose soon, right? Oh, I know. He’s been acting all weird and secretive for weeks.
Probably has some big elaborate plan that I’ll have to act surprised about. She laughed again. I figure I’ll say yes, enjoy the engagement party, then decide what to do. Maybe Cory will be ready to commit by then. If not, at least I’ll have the ring as a fall back. I stood there in the shop parking lot, phone pressed to my ear while grease dripped down my forearm. 3 months.
She’d been sleeping with Corey for three months while living in my house, eating dinner at my table, sleeping in my bed, every kiss, every I love you, every conversation about our future, all of it contaminated by this secret she was keeping. The call kept going. They started talking about some reality show. Completely casual, like Britney hadn’t just admitted to systematically betraying me, like I was a joke they’d already moved past.
They laughed about some contestants bad fashion choices while I stood frozen, my entire world reshaping around this new information. I hung up quietly and sat down on a crate outside the shop bay. Didn’t move for about 20 minutes. Just stared at the concrete and tried to process what I’d heard. Here’s the thing about getting news like that.
There’s this moment where you have to decide who you’re going to be. Are you the guy who storms home, makes a scene, gives her the satisfaction of knowing she broke you? Or are you the guy who takes a breath, thinks it through, and handles business like an adult? I’ve never been the explosive type. My dad taught me that anger makes you stupid, and stupid gets you hurt.
So, instead of driving home and confronting her, I drove to my buddy Kevin’s place and told him everything. Kevin’s a claims adjuster for aninsurance company, which means he’s basically a professional skeptic who documents everything for a living. perfect person to help me think through this strategically. He listened to the whole story without interrupting, then started asking questions like he was filling out a claim form.
First thing you need to do is protect yourself legally, he said. Already in business mode. You own the house outright, right? Yeah. Bought it before we even met. Her name’s not on anything. Not the deed, not the mortgage, nothing. Good. What about joint accounts? We have one for household expenses.
Maybe three grand in there right now. Pull your half out tomorrow. Don’t touch hers, just yours. And document that you did it before any confrontation happens. Screenshot the balance before and after. We spent 3 hours going through everything going. Kevin helped me think about angles I would have missed in my emotional state. Like the fact that some of my tools were still at Cory’s place from when I’d helped him move into his apartment 6 months ago.
The guy had asked for help with his couch and I’d left a whole tool bag there because I’d promised to come back and help him mount some shelves. Never got around to it. or that Britney had been driving a car I’d co-signed for, which meant her bad decisions could become my financial problem if she decided to stop making payments out of spite.
We went through every potential angle, every possible way this could blow back on me if I wasn’t careful. I didn’t sleep that night, just lay in bed next to her, staring at the ceiling while she snored peacefully like she hadn’t burned our relationship to the ground. Every instinct screamed at me to wake her up and demand answers, but I kept my mouth shut and let her think everything was normal.
Hardest thing I’ve ever done. The next morning, I called in sick to work for the first time in two years. Told my foreman I had a family emergency, which wasn’t technically a lie. Then I got to work on what I call operation clean exit. Step one was the car situation. I’d co-signed Britney’s lease because her credit was garbage when she got it 2 years ago.
The dealership confirmed I could transfer the responsibility entirely to her if she agreed and her credit had improved enough, which it had, thanks to two years of me making sure bills got paid on time. I filled out the paperwork and kept it ready. If she refused to sign, I could always report the car and leave her dealing with the consequences.
Step two was the joint account. Went to the bank first thing when they opened, withdrew exactly half, $1,500, and got a receipt showing the remaining balance. opened a new account at a different bank and transferred my direct deposit. The bank teller probably thought I was being paranoid, but I didn’t care.
Paper trail matters. Step three was documentation. I’m not a lawyer, but Kevin made me write down everything I could remember about the phone call, exact quotes, timestamps, who was present. Then I backed up my phone’s call log showing the duration of that call. 19 minutes and 32 seconds of her thinking I wasn’t listening. Step four was the hardest.
I called Britney’s parents. Robert answered on the second ring. Jake, how’s it going, son? I almost lost it right there. This man had treated me like family for 2 years, and now I had to tell him his daughter was a cheater. He taught me things, trusted me, told me he was proud to have me as part of the family.
Robert, I need to talk to you and Linda about something. It’s about Britney, and it’s serious. Can we meet somewhere private? Maybe tomorrow afternoon. Long pause. Jake, you’re worrying me. Is she okay? Is she sick? She’s healthy. But there’s something you need to know before this weekend. He agreed to meet me at a coffee shop the next day, bringing Linda along.
I could hear the concern in his voice, probably thinking I was about to tell him about some medical diagnosis or family emergency. In a way, I guess that’s what this was. That night, I had dinner with Britney like nothing was wrong. She chattered about her day at work, complained about a coworker who kept microwaving fish in the breakroom, asked what movie I wanted to watch later.
I responded in all the right places. Smiled when I should have smiled, even held her hand on the couch during some cooking show she liked. Inside, I felt like I was made of ice. Every touch from her felt like a lie. Every I love you, she said, rang completely hollow now that I knew the truth, but I played along, kept my face neutral, didn’t give her any indication that her world was about to collapse.
She went to bed around 11:00. I stayed up watching TV until I heard her breathing go steady, then quietly packed a bag of essentials and hid it in my truck just in case things went sideways and I needed to leave for a few days. Meeting with Robert and Linda was brutal in ways I didn’t expect. We sat in a back booth at this diner off the highway, away fromanyone who might know us.
They looked worried sick when they arrived, probably expecting cancer or something equally devastating. In a way, what I told them was just as bad. There’s no easy way to say this. I started, so I’m just going to be direct. Three days ago, I accidentally overheard a phone conversation between Britney and her friends.
She didn’t realize I was still on the line. I told them everything. The affair with Cy, the 3 months of lies, her plans to accept my proposal while keeping her options open. I even played them a recording I’d made of myself, recounting the conversation immediately after it happened, timestamps and all. Wanted them to know I wasn’t making this up or exaggerating.
Linda started crying about halfway through. Not dramatic sobbing, just quiet tears rolling down her cheeks while she gripped her coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Robert sat motionless, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles working. Cy, the divorced guy, she said, was just an old friend from school.
Robert’s voice was barely above a whisper. That’s him. She brought him to our Fourth of July barbecue. He sat at my table and ate my food and shook my hand while he was He couldn’t finish the sentence. Linda put her hand on his arm. Jake, I don’t know what to say, she managed. We raised her better than this. At least we thought we did.
I’m not telling you this to hurt you or to turn you against your daughter. I just thought you deserve to know the truth before this weekend because I took a breath. I was planning to propose at our anniversary dinner. Had the whole family thing arranged. You were supposed to be hiding in the kitchen at Santino’s. Robert closed his eyes.
The Italian restaurant you’d asked me about renting the back room. I thought it was for her birthday. No, it was for the proposal. Was for the Silence stretched between us. Then Robert reached across the table and grabbed my shoulder. You’re a good man, Jake. Better than she deserves, apparently.
What are you going to do? I’m moving her out this weekend. I’ve got the paperwork ready for the car transfer, so I’m not stuck with that lease. Already separated our finances. I’m not trying to destroy her life or anything. I just want her gone. What about the ring? Returning it tomorrow. Store has a 30-day policy. Linda dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.
Will you let us know when you’re confronting her? Robert and I want to be there. I hadn’t expected that. You want to be there. She’s our daughter and we love her. But what she’s done to you is unforgivable. She needs to see that actions have consequences. And she needs to see that we won’t cover for her. Linda’s voice had an edge I’d never heard before.
Besides, we want to hear her explanation for herself. see if she can look us in the eye while she lies. We agreed on Sunday afternoon, 3 days away. I’d have everything ready by then. Those three days were the longest of my life. I had to act completely normal around Britney while internally orchestrating her eviction from my life.
She kept talking about our anniversary plans, asking if I had anything special in mind, probably fishing to see if her ring theory was correct. I told her I’d made reservations somewhere nice. Let her think the proposal was still happening. let her imagine whatever engagement party fantasies she’d been entertaining while sleeping with another man.
Meanwhile, I was busy. Returned the ring and got a full refund. The jeweler looked at me with pity when I explained the situation, but I kept it brief and professional. 4 months of overtime back in my pocket. Nearly $8,000 I’d worked my hands raw for. Saved from being wasted on someone who didn’t deserve it.
Contacted a locksmith and scheduled them for Monday morning. New dead bolts, new garage code. Everything changed the day after she was gone. Not taking any chances on her deciding to come back and cause drama. Boxed up all her belongings while she was at work. Though now I wondered how many of those office hours were actually spent at Cory’s place.
Clothes, makeup, books, that stupid decorative pillow she insisted on keeping on the bed, even though it served no purpose. Everything neat and organized. Because even in this, I wasn’t going to be petty. The only thing I didn’t pack was the stuff she’d left scattered around. Hair ties. A coffee mug she always used.
A cardigan draped over a kitchen chair. Let her see exactly where things stood when she walked in. Let her realize how quickly I’d erased her from my space. I also retrieved my tools from Cory’s apartment. Told him I needed them for a project. Kept it casual. Even thanked him for letting me store them there. He had no idea I knew.
Shook my hand and smiled at me while I loaded my toolbox into my truck. probably already planning his next rendevous with my fiance. Cory lived in this apartment complex on the east side of town. One of those places marketed to young professionals withfake granite countertops and a pool nobody ever uses.
His unit was on the third floor, which meant I got to climb stairs while hauling out my socket set and power tools while making polite conversation about the weather. The whole time I was cataloging details. His apartment smelled like her perfume. There was a hair tie on his bathroom counter that I recognized. She always bought the same brand.
The ones with the little metal piece that supposedly prevented breakage. A coffee mug in the dish rack with lipstick on the rim. The same shade Britney wore. Evidence everywhere. Not that I needed any more proof. I smiled and made small talk and loaded my truck and drove away without giving him any indication that I knew. Let him keep thinking he was getting away with it.
His reckoning would come through Britney soon enough. Sunday arrived. Brittany woke up excited, thinking we were heading to our anniversary dinner that evening. She spent 2 hours getting ready, doing her hair and makeup like she was preparing for a photo shoot. Kept asking me if I thought she looked okay, fishing for compliments I no longer had the stomach to give.
“You look fine,” I said, barely glanced up from my phone. She paused, sensing something off. “Just fine. We need to talk before we go anywhere.” Her expression flickered. Confusion, then worry, then something that looked almost like guilt before she masked it. Talk about what? Is something wrong? Sit down, Britney. She sat on the couch.
The same couch where she’d held my hand three nights ago while lying through her teeth. The same couch where we’d watched movies together. Planned our future together. Built something I thought was real. I know about Corey, I said simply. No emotion, no accusation, just facts. The color drained from her face so fast I thought she might pass out.
What? What are you talking about? 3 months. Your girl’s nights that were actually trips to his apartment. The phone calls, the sneaking around, all of it. I kept my voice level, almost conversational. You didn’t hang up properly last Tuesday. I heard everything you said to Megan. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish that had just been pulled from water.
The excuses were forming behind her eyes. I could see her mentally shuffling through possible explanations, looking for one that might work. Jake, whatever you think you heard, it’s not. Don’t Don’t lie to me right now. You’ve done enough of that. The doorbell rang right on time. I got up and opened the door to find Robert and Linda standing on my porch.
Linda’s face was set in stone. Robert looked like he wanted to punch something. They walked past me into the living room without a word. Britney went white. Mom, Dad, what are you doing here? We’re here because Jake told us what you’ve been doing, Linda said. Her voice could have frozen lava.
And we wanted to hear you explain it yourself. What followed was 20 minutes of the most pathetic backpedaling I’ve ever witnessed. Britney tried everything. Denial, then minimization, then blameshifting, then tears. She claimed it was just a mistake. Claimed she was confused, claimed I’d been too focused on work, and she felt neglected.
You felt neglected? I finally interrupted. I spent 4 months of overtime buying you an engagement ring. I learned to cook your favorite meals. I spent every weekend for a year renovating this house so we’d have somewhere nice to live. At what point did I neglect you? You don’t understand what it’s like. You’re so focused on plans and projects that you never just live in the moment with me.
So instead of talking to me about it like an adult, you decided to sleep with someone else for 3 months while still living in my house and planning to accept my proposal. She had no answer for that, just more tears. Robert spoke up then. Brittney, I want you to look at me. He waited until she met his eyes.
I have never been more disappointed in anyone in my entire life. This man welcomed you into his home, loved you, took care of you, and you repaid him by betraying him in the worst way possible. And then you had the gall to mock him to your friends while he was listening. Dad, please. I’m not finished. You’re going to pack whatever Jake hasn’t already boxed up, and you’re going to leave this house today.
You’re going to sign whatever paperwork he needs for that car, and you’re going to figure out your own living situation because you are not moving back in with us.” Linda nodded firmly. “We raised you better than this. Whatever you do next, you’re doing it on your own.” Britney’s face crumpled. I think she’d expected her parents to take her side, maybe defend her, or at least soften the blow.
Instead, she was watching her entire support system collapse in real time. I handed her the car paperwork. Sign this and the lease transfers to you. Don’t sign it and I report it stolen when you drive away. She signed. It took her about an hour to gather everything I hadn’t already packed.
Her parentshelped carry boxes to her car, but there was no comfort in their assistance, just cold efficiency. When the last box was loaded, she turned back to look at me standing in the doorway of my house. Jake, I’m sorry. I really am. I never meant for any of this to save it. I closed the door. The fallout was immediate and widespread. Word travels fast in a small town, and ours was no exception.
Within 48 hours, seemingly everyone knew some version of what had happened. My version spread through my friend group in the shop. Hers apparently went through the dental practice gossip mill. Somewhere along the way, the stories merged and mutated until the whole town knew that Britney had cheated on her fiance with a guy named Corey while planning to accept a proposal she never intended to honor.
Cory’s reputation took a hit, too. Turns out he’d told people at his job that he and Britney were just friends, that he was helping her through a rough patch in her relationship. When the truth came out, his co-workers weren’t impressed. His boss, a woman who’d been cheated on herself, made his work life increasingly uncomfortable.
He quit about 3 weeks later and moved back to Georgia. Britney tried to do damage control, but there wasn’t much she could say. She posted some vague thing on social media about personal growth and learning from mistakes, which got mocked mercilessly by people who knew the real story. 3 days after I kicked her out, she showed up at my parents house.
I happened to be there for Sunday dinner, a tradition I’d maintained even during the relationship. My mom makes these pork chops that are basically required eating for anyone in our family. We were just sitting down when the doorbell rang. My dad answered and found Britney standing on the porch looking like she hadn’t slept in days.
Mascara smeared, clothes wrinkled, practically vibrating with desperation. I need to talk to Jake, please. Dad looked back at me. I shook my head slightly. He turned back to her. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Britney. Please. I just need 5 minutes. I need to explain. There’s nothing to explain, I called from the dining room, not bothering to get up.
You made your choices. Now live with them. That’s when she started screaming. I don’t mean yelling. I mean full volume shrieking that probably woke up half the neighborhood. Screaming about how I was being unfair. How I’d ruined her life. How everyone was turning against her because of what I’d told her parents. Screaming that I’d destroyed her relationship with her family.
That Cory had dumped her when he found out everyone knew. That she’d lost everything because I couldn’t just let it go. My mom, God bless her, walked calmly to the door and stood next to my dad. Brittney, you’re making a scene. If you don’t leave in the next 30 seconds, I’m calling the police. You don’t understand. He was supposed to propose.
We were supposed to get married. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re right. My mom said it wasn’t. That’s what happens when you cheat. Now get off my property. Something in Britney’s face shifted. Then the desperation crumbled into something uglier. Rage, maybe, or bitterness.
She looked past my parents to where I sat calmly eating my dinner. You’ll regret this, Jake. You’ll regret throwing away everything we had. I took a bite of pork chop. Already don’t. These are great, Mom. My dad closed the door. We could hear her yelling outside for another minute or so before a car started, and she finally drove away.
My mom sat back down and passed the mashed potatoes like nothing had happened. More gravy, honey. Fast forward 6 months. I’d thrown myself into work after the breakup, picking up extra shifts and putting money aside. Finished the deck expansion I’d started before meeting Britney. Built a workshop in the backyard for my restoration projects.
Got a dog from the shelter, a three-year-old lab mix named Diesel, who follows me everywhere. Kevin dragged me out to a barbecue at his cousin’s place one Saturday. I didn’t want to go, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. That’s where I met Rachel. She was Kevin’s cousin’s neighbor. Came over because she smelled the burgers and figured she’d introduce herself.
dark hair, easy smile, worked as a veterinary technician at the animal clinic on Main Street. We ended up talking for 3 hours while everyone else got progressively louder around us. 2 weeks later, we went on our first date. 3 months after that, she met my parents. They loved her immediately.
Rachel knew the whole Britney story early on. I told her because I didn’t want any surprises. She listened, then shrugged and said, “Her loss.” And that was the end of it. Around month eight of dating Rachel, I ran into Britney at the grocery store. She looked rough, thinner, tired, buying frozen dinners and energy drinks. She spotted me first and her face went through about six expressions before landing on something like forced casual.Jake. Hey, Britney. Awkward pause.
She glanced at my cart. Steaks, vegetables, the good pasta, Rachel liked. You look good, she said. Happy. I am. Another pause. I could see her working up to something. I heard you’re seeing someone. Kevin’s cousin’s friend or something neighbor and yeah, is it serious? I almost laughed. You don’t get to ask me that anymore.
She flinched like I’d slapped her. Jake, I just I think about what happened all the time. I made such a huge mistake. If I could go back and But you can’t. I grabbed a bag of coffee and tossed it in my cart. Have a good life, Britney. I walked away without looking back. That night, Rachel came over for dinner.
I grilled the steaks while she made a salad and Diesel supervised from his spot by the deck railing. We ate outside as the sun went down, talking about her day at the clinic and the project I was working on at the shop. After dinner, while we were doing dishes, she bumped her hip against mine. You’re quiet tonight.
Everything okay? Ran into Britney at the store. Oh. She dried a plate and put it away. That must have been weird. She tried to apologize again. Asked if we were serious. Rachel snorted. What did you tell her? that she doesn’t get to ask me that anymore. She grinned and kissed my cheek. Good answer. I found out later through the grapevine what had happened to Britney after everything fell apart.
Her parents made good on their word. She wasn’t welcome to move back home, so she’d bounced between friends couches for a few weeks before finding a studio apartment on the rough side of town. The dental practice didn’t fire her, but her co-workers knew the story and apparently made things uncomfortable enough that she transferred to a different location 40 minutes away.
Cory had bailed back to Georgia within a month of everything coming out. Last anyone heard, he was living with his mom and working retail. The great romance that was worth destroying a relationship for lasted exactly 3 weeks once it wasn’t a secret anymore. Robert and Linda kept in touch with me. We had dinner every couple months, just the three of us.
