Page 23 of Sweet Escape
“Hey, Bunny.” Correction. It’s Jakeandthat stupid nickname.
“What do you want, Jake?” I ask, my tone clipped.
There’s an audible sigh, and I can already picture him gritting his teeth. I’ve gained an entirely different perspective of our relationship since coming home, and it’s clear to me now that things were far from the picture-perfect romance I envisioned for myself.
“Come home. We need to talk.”
Exhibit A: his words are a demand, not a request.
“I’m done talking, Jake. And beyond that, I’m done listening. There’s nothing you could possibly say to fix what you broke. I’ve moved on. You should, too.” The barb is intentional.
His voice pitches higher. “What does that mean, Livie? Are you already fucking someone else?”
“HA! That’s rich coming from you,” I say, my voice dripping with indignation.
“Come on, Liv. You can’t just throw away three years over something so petty.”
“It’s not petty. You literally fucked my best friend inourbed onmybirthday. Go fuck yourself, or Amber if she’s still willing to put up with your bullshit.”
“You really think Amber gave a shit about you? She wasonly ever your friend because she wanted to get to me. Now look at you. Thirty and single with nothing to show for your life. You’ll be crawling back into my bed before you know it.”
“You have the confidence of a much more attractive man, and the ugliest thing about you isn’t even your face. Get fucked.”
Without another word, I tap to end the call and slide off the couch onto the floor, resting my head in my palms.
When my phone rings again a few minutes later, I don’t bother checking the display. “I thought I told you to get fucked. You really think I want to get back together with a man who couldn't be bothered to make me come? I’ve had far better than you, Jake. I’m talking three orgasms in one night, pussy eaten like a man starved, and hung like a fucking horse. Tell Amber to enjoy my leftovers.”
“Um. Liv?”
I grimace. It’s not Jake on the other end of the line, but the very man I’ve been avoiding.
“Oh my God. Wilder? I’m so sorry. I thought you were Jake.”
“Clearly. You really think I’m hung like a horse?”
I can almost see that genuine smile behind his thick beard, and how his brown eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Ummm…” Mortified. I’m positivelymortified. My feet carry me to the kitchen before I can register the movement. I stop at the fridge to pull out some of the chilled chocolate chip cookie dough I set aside yesterday. What can I say? I’m a stress baker.
When I don’t respond he says, “I can't decide if I should be annoyed at being compared to that cockweasel or pissed because he’s clearly harassing you.”
“That’s sweet. I think.” Standing back against the countertop with my legs crossed at the ankles, I tuck the phone between my shoulder and jaw, then pinch some of the doughbetween my thumb and forefinger. The sweetness hits my tongue seconds before I realize I can’t eat raw cookie dough anymore. I spit it into the sink.
“Are you okay?” Wilder asks, concern evident in his voice.
“Yep. I’m good,” I reply, putting the device on speaker so I can hold my hair back and dip my head under the faucet to wash out my mouth.
“Liv? I can call back if you’re busy.”
I frantically wipe my mouth before responding. “No. No, it's fine.”
Thank God this isn’t a video call.
“Should we start again?” he asks with a distinct air of amusement in his voice. “Hi, Olivia. This is Wilder Hayes. The triple orgasm starving man with the horse cock.”
Oh my God.
“Hi, Wilder Hayes. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I plant my elbow on the counter and rest my head in my hand, hoping I might disappear.
