Page 29 of Sexting His Son's Ex
This time, the bouquet seems to be made of an array of black flowers with shades of dark purple and pinks.
Ms. Smith: “I’ll never stop trying to woo you, Mr. Salvati.”
Me: “I do like it when you call me that. Are you ever going to let me know who you are? I’m not sure how much more I can take of this.”
Her: “You’ll need to learn patience. Good things come to those who wait.”
Me: “I’ve waited long enough. I’m not a patient man. I don’t like being played with, Ms. Smith.”
Her: “Then, what am I supposed to do when I want to play?”
My cock stirs as I reread her words. I do love defiance. It might be my favorite quality of whoever is on the other line. I’ll give this a few more days, maybe another week before I take matter into my own hands. Until then, I’m going to be happy, and try to take the advice from my son. There’s more to life than the job and it becomes a problem when the job becomes who you are.
I can’t remember who I am. I don’t know what I like anymore. Are there hobbies I’d enjoy? New food? When was the last time I watched a movie? Something as simple as a TV show?
How sad is it that I don’t know?
“Who is that you’re talking to?” Omar tries to read my messages by peeking over.
I turn the phone away from him. “None of your business. Just a friend.”
“A friend? A friend who makes you smile? Must be some…friend.”
I debate if I want to tell Omar the truth. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone with anything that isn’t work related. Knowing this information would make my son happy and I want that for him.
For me.
Maybe more time needs to be spent cultivating my family again. Perhaps, all of us have been lost in the grey.
“Okay, but before you tell me I’m crazy, listen to me,” I warn.
Omar rubs his hands together and even Lorenzo has taken out his earbuds, pretending he isn’t paying attention, but I see the slight smirk on his face.
He won’t say a word to anyone. Whatever is sad in the car won’t leave the car.
“You know the flower deliveries I’ve been getting?”
Omar nods and Lorenzo tries to hide his own answer. He allows his mask to slip and those bushy brows raise. It’s subtle. It could be said that whatever he is staring at on his phone is to blame for the reaction, but I know better.
“Yeah, they are huge too. Pretty. Didn’t know so many flowers came in black. Did you ever figure out who they are from?”
I shake my head. “No. The only thing the flowers had was a card with a number on it saying that they are my secret admirer, which is completely childish. I texted the number anyway.”
Lorenzo lifts his gaze to me. “Without doing a safety check?” He scoffs. “Sir, please, let me trace the number?—”
“—No. I am doing this for a reason.”
“You’re wanting to have fun,” Omar realizes. “You don’t care if this person is out to get you?”
“Of course, I care. Whoever this is, whether it’s a joke, a ploy to get me vulnerable for an attack, or maybe this person is having innocent fun before telling me the truth. I’m prepared for it all. Yes, I’m having fun, but I’m not dumb. I know when boundariesneed to be set. I’m going to give it a little more time, then I’ll expose them.”
“What’s this person like?” Omar question, curious, and if I’m not mistaken, happy that I’m sharing something with him.
“She’s brave yet timid, flirty, and bold, somehow manages to be sweet and innocent. She’s easy to talk to. Whatever this is, it’s reminded me that there’s more to life than the isolation I put myself in from before.”
“But? I sense a but?”
I exhale, the guilt eating away at me. “But it means I’m moving on from your mother and that’s a very hard step to take.”
