His calculated grin says it all.
Angry crier. Yeah, that sucks balls right now.
His smile falls when my eyes start to glisten.
“You just humiliated me to prove a point to Mark? Or to me? Or to find out if I was lying?” I ask him, though it’s all nothing more than rhetorical.
“Sicily, I just—”
“Don’t bother,” I say tightly, lifting my phone to start playing “Gunpowder and Lead.”
The song staves off my tears, and I move woodenly to the door. I open it then close it again before looking back at him.
“Maybe your only problem wasn’t where you stuck your dick when you were with someone. Maybe the fact you’re an inconsiderate ass played a part in not finding whatever in the hell you were supposedly searching for. Right now, though, I think you just filled me full of all the right shit to butter me up and make me think you were truly seeking redemption.”
He starts to speak, but I wave him off. “Like I said, Anderson, don’t bother. You’ve said enough for today.”
This time when I open the door, I walk out, not glancing at his secretary as I walk back to my office and grab my things. I need to go home to pack any-damn-way.
Glad I didn’t bother telling Lydia or my brother about this stupid relationship that never came to be. I got way ahead of myself thinking this was going to be more than another game to Anderson Harper.
I was trying to figure out sex for him, for fuck’s sake.
When I get home, I find Bobby Jo on my front porch, a bottle of Jack in her hand. I get out of my car, go to sit down beside her, and grab the Jack. She sighs heavily when I take a sip.
“You girls going on a trip?” she asks sadly, picking at a piece of lint on her shirt.
“You can come with us,” I tell her, knowing what she’s hinting at.
She beams as she leans back. “I expected to have to be a little more pitiful to squeeze an invite out of you.”
I laugh under my breath and wipe a dribble of liquor off my chin as I hand her the bottle back. “Bobby Jo, sometimes I think you’re the craziest person on the planet. Other times, I think you’re the only one who knows how to live life.”
She bats a hand. “I just know what I like. Sweets, pizza, Bingo, and uncircumcised penises.”
“Why uncircumcised?” I ask, even though I probably shouldn’t.
She sips the Jack before grinning at me. “They last longer. This fifty-year-old spring chicken needs a little extra time getting hers.”
Heh. So the extra skin makes them last—
Nope. Not thinking about penises right now. Besides, all the guys last long enough for me to get mine, because they never get theirs. Fortunately, they stay hard for the ride, but—
Again, not thinking about penises!
“How do I need to pack?” she asks as I stand up.
“Swimsuits,” I answer. “Beach wear.”
I walk in without another word, and I hear her hoot and howl as I go to my room to start packing a bag. My phone buzzes with a message from Anderson, but I don’t bother reading it.
Now, how the hell am I going to deal with seeing him all weekend?
I knew getting involved with my boss was a horrible idea. Why do I never listen to myself?
Even though I know I shouldn’t, the temptation to look at my phone is just too potent, and I look at the message he sent. Weirdly, it’s a link to a Justin Bieber song, but a small smile crawls on my lips when I hear the song playing. “Sorry.”
Like an idiot, I listen to the song with a stupid smile on my face. I’m not sure how he knew a song apology was better than just the words, but it can’t possibly be that easy for me to gloss over the fact he was a total, colossal dick.
I also can’t believe he has Bieber fever…
Since he can’t see the smile he’s caused, I decide to make him prove it, just because I’m wondering how hard he plans to work to show me he’s sorry.
Me: Tell Roman you want to date me so that we don’t have to lie to my brother. You can also apologize to Mark for humiliating him. Then I’ll believe you’re serious about this and not just playing games with my head.
After a solid minute passes, he sends another link to me, and I burst out laughing when the Puddle of Mudd song starts playing.
“She Fucking Hates Me.”
CHAPTER 10
LYDIA
I argue with myself for two days over whether to actually go this weekend. By Friday, I’ve changed my mind a hundred times.
Ava joins me outside at the picnic tables for lunch. “Looking forward to the long weekend?”
A groan escapes my lips, and I shake my head.