Page 20 of Kiss Me, Mr. Bridge

“I said I would. Is Ronan going?”

“I expect so. Dad was weird. He was grilling me about where I am, who I’m with, and when I’ll be home.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “Like I’m sixteen or something.”

Violet swirls her wine. “Must be nice having a dad who actually cares. Mine couldn’t give a shit about me.”

“And that’s why you have daddy issues.” Amelia smirks.

“I don’t have daddy issues.” Violet straightens her shoulders. “I just like older men who take care of me. I’m waiting for the perfect one.”

“And who would that be?” Amelia leans forward.

“Someone like your dad,” Violet winks.

Wine sprays from my mouth. “You can’t say that!”

“You have to admit, her dad is hot, though.” Violet fans herself with a folded napkin. “Those shoulders, that jaw...”

“Stop!” Amelia covers her ears. “I don’t need to hear about my dad’s...anything.”

“But seriously,” Violet leans in. “The website’s been good to me. Last guy bought me these earrings.”

“Nice. And what did you have to do for them?” I ask.

“Nothing crazy. Dinner dates, weekend trips. Some of them just want company.” She traces the rim of her glass. “But I’m getting too old now. The new girls are like nineteen, twenty.”

“You’re twenty-five!” Amelia scoffs. “That’s nothing.”

Violet’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I just want someone permanent. Someone who’ll take care of everything.”

“Everything?” I ask.

“You know. My schedule, my decisions. Life is exhausting when you’re always in charge.”

“You’re a businesswoman. Oh! You’re a sub!” The words slip out before I can stop them.

“Is that so shocking?” Violet raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about surrendering control?”

My mind flashes to Ronan’s commanding presence, how my body responds to his orders.

At work, I’m always the one to make decisions, fighting for clients, keeping everything together. The thought of letting someone else take the reins...

I shake my head clear. “We should head home.”

“Yeah. We can eat ice-cream and search for rich men on your website,” Amelia squeals.

Minutes later, we stumble down the sidewalk, arms linked, belting out a tune nobody knows the words to at the top of our lungs.

Back at the apartment, Amelia pulls up the sugar daddy website on her laptop.

“Look at this one,” she points. “Sixty-five and wants a ‘companion for opera nights.’”

“Pass.” I scroll past him. “Though I wouldn’t mind someone older. Over fifty and I’m out.”

“They know what they want. And they have money,” Violet adds.

I’m not concerned about the money. Once my student debt disappears, I’ll reap the benefit of not losing a chunk of my income every month.

“I can’t date right now, anyway. I’m too busy with—” I catch myself just in time. “—Work. But maybe in a few weeks.”

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