Page 55 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Of course. You aren’t a prisoner.”Well… not really.
“Mmm, seems like it,” she sasses with disbelief.
We fall into an uncomfortable silence filled with tension so tight, it just might snap.
“Are these your parents?” I look at the photo next to her bed of two people embracing each other. The image is discolored from age, the left side is burned as if she pulled it from a fire.
She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she snags the picture from her nightstand and tucks it safely into her suitcase, protecting the frame with clothes.
I hide my smile by rolling my lips together. She doesn’t want to be forthcoming with information about herself and I understand why. Whatever relationship we have, it’s been stained with lies and deceit.
From the both of us.
She zips her bag shut. “I’m ready.”
I stand, taking three steps to invade her space. We lock eyes and she leans away from me while I lean in.
I’m so close, I can smell the coffee on her breath and the lingering scent of lilies in her hair. “Let me get that.” I glide my hand over hers to take the bag from her grip.
A buzz of electricity passes between the touch, and she gasps, taking a giant step away from me.
“After you,” I say.
She still doesn’t speak to me.
Jovie turns off all the nights in her apartment and heads down the steps, getting everything in order for the shop to be okay without her for a few days.
Maybe weeks if I’m lucky.
“Can I tell my friend where I’m going? She’s next door,” Jovie finally speaks.
“The one from the restaurant?”
She nods.
“No. You can tell her when you’re at my house. If you tell her now, she will try to stop me, and we don’t want that, Jovie.”
Her eyes round again from the underlying threat that I would hurt her friend. I wouldn’t because Jovie would be hurt. Killing a friend is unforgivable and having her forgiveness means more to me than murdering someone who isn’t a big enough problem.
Opening the front door for her, she breezes by me and I’m a pathetic man for inhaling the air she just walked through.
“Jovie, this is my driver, Sam.”
“Ms. Morgan. It’s a pleasure,” Sam greets, opening the back door for her.
She doesn’t say anything. Jovie looks over her shoulder to give Sam a small, forced smile as she locks the doors to her business.
“I’ll take that, Sir.” Sam places the suitcase in the trunk and Jovie slips into the backseat.
I follow behind and Sam shuts us in before running around to the driver’s side. The partition is up to give us privacy if we wanted to talk. I have a feeling that won’t be a problem considering we aren’t speaking.
I scoot so close enough that our thighs touch, and she moves to the other seat across from the mini bar.
Her tantrum is cute considering she’s the one who caused this problem.
She crosses her arms and looks out the window. Jovie doesn’t look at me once during the drive home. I hide my smile by rubbing a hand over my mouth.
While she has her eyes on anything but me, I can’t take my gaze off her. She’s so fucking beautiful. I want a painting made of her despising me so I can look at it whenever I want. The giant canvas can take over the entire wall. Maybe then, business won’t be so intolerable with certain people.
