Page 8 of Her Filthy Mistake

After the party pickle and the double condom guy, I wouldn’t want to move on to the failure-to-perform guy. It’s better to find out now that he’s a disappointment in the sack than to have discovered the man I’ve held on a pedestal for far too many years suffers from erectile dysfunction.

As my brother touted, at least he had a wingman to clean up his messes.

I settle back on my heels. Party pickle and double condom guy should have had wingmen. Maybe then, I could’ve had an orgasm.

“Thank you.” A flush settles across her cheeks.

“Zoe!” My little sister–half-sister–Zorya’s voice comes from behind us. I spin around and swing her off her feet. “Hello, beautiful. How’s my shining star?” My mom held true to the letter Z when Zorya was born. She said she wanted her children to have unusual names because there were three Carly’s in her class. Carly J. Carly M. Carly June. She was Carly June.

“Great.” She giggles and splays her arms out as I swing her in a circle. She clamors back down to her sandal-covered feet and glances around the room. “Where’s Zayden?”

“He’ll be here in a minute. I’m sure.” My mom squeezes her shoulder. “I saw him on the phone in the hallway.”

“And Uncle Jace?”

“There he is.” My mom points at the doorway as Jace breezes into the room. His stance is rigid as he avoids my gaze, but when he sees Zorya, his face lights up.

“There’s my favorite girl.”

She runs full speed to him and crashes against his body as he lifts her up, swinging her off the ground. “I missed you.” She cups his face with her pudgy hands.

“I missed you too. What’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been swimming at the pool, eating pizza, and playing with my dolls. And….”

“He’s so good with her,” my mom sighs. “It warms my heart to see them together, although, it’s not nearly as often as I’d like. He’s so gentle with her and will play with her for hours.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Did I tell you about the last time he was in town?”

“No.” I grit my teeth together. If this includes a recap of his sexcapades with anyone, I’m going to hurl all over her leopard print cover-up.

“I was sick, and Landon had to work, so he spent the entire day playing Barbies, baby dolls, and dressing up.” She laughs. “He even wore a tutu and sang to her.” I can’t stand looking at him anymore, so I turn sideways to block them from my view. My mom sighs with a wistful look on her face. “He sings like an angel, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he does.” I’d be a fool to disagree with her. He does have a beautiful voice, but he’s an asshole.

“I wish he hadn’t surrounded himself with losers that couldn’t get it together long enough to get a record label.”

“Mom, I need to go.”

She tilts her head sideways. “Where do you have to go?”

Anywhere but here. Home. Antarctica. A black hole. “I need to call Daisy.”

“Isn’t she busy at Julia’s wedding?”

“Yes. It’ll just be a minute. I’ll be right back.” I speed walk across the dining room and into the hallway where the bathroom is located. What can I do to get out of this trip from hell? Stomach flu? Can I claim I have intestinal distress and hide in my room for a week? What would that do for me? He’s in my bungalow.

I snatch my phone out of my little black purse and dial Daisy. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Her answering service kicks on. “Thanks for leaving me in hell. My family is a mess. Zayden can’t stop blabbing about Jace’s erectile dysfunction–”

“I don’t have erectile dysfunction.”

“Shit!” I jump and lurch sideways, falling into the wall as I spin on my heel. Son of a bitch. Jace leans his shoulder against the doorframe next to the women’s room with an anguished expression. I was so deep in my head that I didn’t realize he was following me.

Thank God I didn’t say anything about how many times I wished I was with him rather than the last guy I was with. But now I know he wouldn’t have any better luck at getting me off than the party pickle guy did. Maybe I should give up on men and date women. At least a woman would know where the clitoris and G spot are without a roadmap. And everyone knows men don’t read maps or ask for directions.

I stifle a snort and click the phone off, shoving it back into my bag. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” I take a step toward the bathroom, intent on brushing past him.

“Both those nights, I was dealing with….” He clears his throat. “Difficult life situations and wasn’t in the mood to party or have sex.”

I snap my head around and glare at him. “So, my brother made you put your dick in some random groupie’s vagina? That’s about as believable as ‘I tripped, and it slipped inside.’”

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