Page 75 of Miss Behaved
Monica. That’s who.
I must have grabbed it by mistake.
And I can’t help but pop off the cap and put a smear of it on my tongue. But, like any other fantasy I try to conjure, it’s not the same. Nothing half-assed does that woman justice.
My phone pings, and, as if she’s been summoned by the universe, Monica’s name pops up.
Monica: Sorry, was getting out of the shower, everything okay?
The shower—my cock is already pissed at me enough without also knowing she’s dripping wet and naked. God, the things I would do to that woman’s body up against the slick tiles. Soaping up her ass and then driving into her.
How did I ever let Monica crawl out of my bed this morning?
Brandon is right: I’m whipped in the best fucking way.
I stare at her text, wanting to tell her that I miss her voice, that I need to hear her. I need to see her. That she’s making the biggest mistake. Beg her to just give me a shot. But she doesn’t want to hear any of those things, and I know it.
Carson: Fine, sorry, hit your number on accident.
Liar.
But it doesn’t matter. It would be selfish for me to pursue this knowing that the decision she made is for the best. She’s better without me. Happier.
What kind of absolute dick would I be to take that away from her?
Carson: Hope you’re settled back in.
Text bubbles appear and then disappear again. I know she’s probably annoyed with my answer, but I leave it at that because I don’t want her calling me back and forcing small talk when she clearly isn’t ready to face this.
My head pounds like twenty-eight years have beaten the shit out of me.
Loving Monica.
Losing her.
Loving her and losing her again.
Knowing I could have had her if it hadn’t been for the constant reminder of one person.
My father.
God, I hate him. I think of all the things I wanted to tell him and never did.
Unlocking my phone again, I hit my agent’s number and don’t wait for her hellowhen I hear her end of the line connect.
“Denise, I’m calling about the meeting with the publisher,” I say.
“I’m still working on them, Carson. But if—”
“No, I don’t care about that. I’ll convince them. That’s not why I’m calling,” I tell her. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be there in person.”
“In person?”
She knows I avoid that city like the plague. But some things can’t be done over the phone.
If there’s ever going to be a chance for a future with Monica, something needs to happen first.
I need to face Seattle. I need to face my father.
