One Percent of Love
"Jump. You love me to death, don't you? Didn't you say you'd do anything for me?"
Ethan Hart wanted me to throw myself off the observation deck of the tallest tower downtown, live, in front of the millions of people watching the broadcast.
I stood on the wrong side of the railing. Below me, traffic streamed through the streets and neon flickered in the distance.
His friends clapped and cheered. Vivian Lane laughed softly and curled herself against his arm.
Ethan's grin turned vicious. "Come on, don't waste everyone's time. Jump, and I'll marry you."
He'd made me a promise once. Finish a hundred of his demands, and he would marry me.
When his company was circling bankruptcy, he told me to hand over everything I owned, and I did.
Then he moved Vivian into my house in the suburbs and left me to sleep in a motel.
The night he was tangled up with Vivian at a private party, he sent me over with something for his hangover, and made a point of telling me to bring a box of condoms, the right size.
I stood at the door holding the soup I'd made, and heard him laugh. "She's my ATM. I use her, then I throw her out."
No matter how far it went, I'd done all ninety-nine.
This was the last one: jump.
He thought I'd hesitate, thought I'd cry and beg him to pick something else. I didn't.
I let go and fell. The wind roared in my ears, and the whole lit-up city slid past me.
I heard him shout, heard the crowd scream, and underneath all of it, the one voice I'd waited too long to hear.
[Congratulations, host. Emotional conquest progress: one hundred percent. Reward delivered. Your mother's terminal illness is fully cured.]