Yeah, not only am I full of shit, but he also calls me out on it.
Real talk: dirty-talking is hotter than hot. I dated a guy while I was in nursing school that did it exceptionally well. Since then, I’ve dreamt of having a guy dirty-talk to me again. Blake, my ex, wasn’t a dirty talker. Whatshisface Rick isn’t either.
I have a recurring fantasy where it gets taken to another level when the guy makes me tell him what I want, exactly what I want in explicit detail, and he keeps me on edge and won’t let me come until I get the words out. It’s hot as fuck.
I asked Rick to talk dirty to me once, when I was drunk, the night we got engaged in fact. He laughed it off. Not only that, he teased me for it the next day, blaming it all on the booze, clueless to the fact that if he’d indulged me it might’ve taken our sex life to new levels that could’ve translated sober, too.
But despite feeling the flutter of temptation at getting something that would truly turn me on, I’m not playing that game here with the shapeshifter. No. This is going to be difficult enough to move on from. No sense making it even harder to deal with the grief of thinking back on how perfect this guy is by indulging in more fantasies.
A voicemail alert pings from the counter, making me go tense.
How is it my phone gets enough signal for Whatshisface to call, dies, then gets enough signal to let me know he’s left a voicemail message? Yet when I want to call Mom or Ivy, nothing!
Enough to remind me of what’s waiting for me when I leave here, I guess. There’s magic at work here, for sure, but there’s also these inconvenient little reminders about reality.
“I better listen to that message,” I say.
Not that I even want to, but for some reason, my heart is pounding really fast, and I need a minute.
“All right,” he replies and hikes himself up to sit on the counter behind me.
Holding the phone to my ear, I walk over to the living room window so there’s distance between us.
“Amelia, hey, what’s goin’ on?”
Rick pauses like he’s not talking to my machine and there’s a chance of an answer. He sounds irritated.
“Where the fuck are you?”
Oh. Definitely irritated.
“No one can get ahold of you, so I drove by Ivy’s and the place is dark, your car’s not there, and neither is hers. Guess you two went out. Your mom isn’t answering her phone, so I called your dad too and anyway...”
My dad? Is he whacked or what? He knows I’m not speaking to my father!
“Sheila and my mother both say you’re not answering calls or texts and they need to talk to you about the rehearsal dinner, the seating plan, and somethin’ with the song list. Mother says you’ve got a whack of songs on there that aren’t remotely appropriate. Ivy’s not answering her phone either. Any word on the Ivy and Ben thing? Wanted to know about that, too. Can she keep her head together to be paired up with him or what? We’ve got them sitting together at the rehearsal dinner and the reception and… call me back. Need you to get on this stuff, Amelia. Like… this is why you’re taking that leave of absence, I thought. Hope whatever Ivy’s little drama is, she’s not monopolizing your time. You got a lot to do over this coming week, so don’t be afraid to tell her that if she’s being… you know… too much. Anyway, call me in the morning. I’m headin’ to bed now, so…uh… phone me tomorrow.”
He pauses, then adds, “Love you.” And says it in a way that feels wrong. Almost … forced.
I angrily end the call.
If Ivy is being too much? Where the fuck am I? This is why I’m taking that leave of absence? Calling my father? Talking to Dad after all Dad has put our family through?
I grumble under my breath, “You’re the one who’s too fucking much.”
“Ivy’s little drama?”
My eyes dart to Mason.
My face feels hot. I’m angry. Really angry. I feel like I’m about to blow my top.
“Huh?” I ask and then it dawns what Mason has just said. “You heard all that all the way over there?”
“Got good ears.” He shrugs.
I blink hard. And then I blink again, thinking supernatural level hearing, obviously. Duh.
“What does he think is up with Ivy?” Mason asks. He looks irritated too.
I stare.
He jerks his chin to prompt me to answer.
“Uh… all he knows is she broke up with her boyfriend. And it’s caused some wedding party drama because the guy is one of the groomsmen. Anyway, whatever… I don’t wanna talk about this with you.”
“He sounds like a tool. He always talk to you like that?”