Page 7 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Breathtaking,” I whisper, running my finger over the velvet of the petal.
I feel… I don’t know how I feel.
Men don’t typically get flowers as gifts. Is this what being wooed feels like?
I snatch the bright red card nestled between two red carnations. It’s blank with only a number on it.
“From your secret admirer?” I mutter, more skeptical than ever now.
I’ll think about messaging this person. If anyone is trying to challenge me, I will kill them.
Until then, I’ll enjoy my gift.
They smell nice.
3
JOVIE
If I could turnback time, I wouldnotsend those flowers to my ex-boyfriend’s father. What the fuck was I thinking? If I could break into Santino’s house, steal them, then throw them in the trash, I would. As long as the card with my phone number is still on there.
My revenge feet are getting slightly cold as the coward in me rears its head. Maybe I shouldn’t go for Luca’s Dad. I’m not the person who usually goes lower than the other. This time felt different. I was so tired of being taken advantage of, of being the nice one, the one with a level head, the one that lets everything roll off her shoulders because she’s so understanding.
And I am. That won’t change.
But I’m tired. I’m so tired of being walked all over. I’m tired of my kindness being taken for granted. I have to stand my ground. Using his dad? Is that appropriate? Do I care enough? I remember meeting him when Luca and I first started dating. Meeting Santino was brief. No one would usually think twice about meeting someone.
Santino is someone who you remember. The way he speaks, the way he commands attention, how he dresses, the expressions on his face, everything about him owns the space he steps into, and the way he made me feel can’t ever be forgotten.
He spoke to his son in Italian, so I have no idea what he said. It was after he was done talking to Luca did, he introduce himself. He stretched his hand out and I met it with a gentle grip. He bent over, kissed the tops of my knuckles, his dark green eyes met mine, and he said,“It’s nice to meet you, Jovie.”
That’s all.
That’s it.
But he kissed the top of my hand like he had an old-world way about him. I don’t see men do gestures like that anymore. It took my breath away—hetook my breath away. Our eyes held for longer than usual. If Luca were paying attention, he would have noticed that the stare between his father and I went on for a second too long.
Then one of his friends shouted his name, and Santino was gone. All I was left with was the memory of him.
The door chimes signaling a customer and I realize I’ve been placing the wrong flowers in this order.
“Damn,” I curse, throwing my hands on my hips. “I hate having to start over.”
“I’ve brought you lunch.”
I freeze when I hear Luca’s voice. Out of all the people in the world, I wasn’t expecting him to come see me. I figured I was the last person he would ever want to see after I ditched him at the restaurant.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply, not wanting to even look at him.
My stomach betrays me and growls. Of course, I’m hungry. I skip breakfast more times than not.
“You forgot your breakfast again.” He places a bag on the counter from my favorite deli. “I got your favorite sandwich. I only want to talk, Jovie.”
My stomach turns from hungry to filled with anxiety. I wipe my palms on my apron and start plucking all the flowers from the vase. Talking to him won’t help my focus.
Plus, he looks like his dad in many ways, and for some reason, I’m unable to stop thinking about the man I sent flowers to.
I keep my eyes down. “I don’t want to talk to you, Luca. I’m pretty sure everything was said without needing to say anything at all.”
