Page 47 of Our Little Cliche
Nada.
Sweet. Fuck. All.
Do you know what? No, fuck this. I’m sick of wondering if this bastard is cheating on his wife. I grab my phone and compose a new message.
Are you cheating on your wife with me?
Delete, delete, delete.
Would your mistress care if I use her toothbrush?
No, that’s just stupid.
Does your wife know about last night?
Nope, backspace, backspace, backspace.
Me:
We need to talk…
Better, I think.
Reading it over a million times while waiting for the water to decide if it’s going to work or not, I un-thread my frizzled, orgasm messed up braids. I hit send, throwing my phone back on the bed. A promising sound of rattles, strains and clacks finally come from the shower pipes and I cross my fingers.
Come on water, you can do it, please.
Success!
The heat satisfies my body, and in seconds I’m mentally disappearing into a brainstorming realm, plotting my grand escape. When my furniture arrives…which will be when I don’t know. Tom said I’ll be waiting up to five weeks, but I stillhaven’t heard from anyone.Maybe I could use Cyrus’s credit card that he gave me to flee back to Australia?
Holly, that’s a terrible idea and you know it.
Ugh, my moral compass is right. It’s not in my nature to rip people off, especially ones who have given me so much. Hurting Cyrus is the last thing I want to do. But this needs to stop. I can’t keep torturing myself. In my thirty four years of life, I’ve never run around stressing myself into the ground with a million unanswered questions as much as this. It ends here.
I switch the taps off, wondering if he’s replied while having aneverything shower—you know… wash and shave the bits, pits n tits. And double cleanse my hair obviously. When I peer into the bedroom I notice that the door is open a crack again, but no one is there. Maybe the wind or something did it. Unless Cyrus was snooping? That seems more like a probable cause, because I realize that my phone is not in the same spot it landed in when I threw it on the bed before.
No notifications, but I don’t trust my instinct on that, so I unlock it and tap on the green message icon, seeing a little red bubble attached to it.
Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:
I couldn’t agree more.
Me:
Are you married?
I hesitate asking, but I need to know. Anxiety riddles my bones for his response. After all is said and done, why do I want him to say no? Three dots appear at the bottom of the screen, indicating he is replying. Then it disappears. Then reappears, and disappears once more.
I knew it.
Heism?—
Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:
No.
That’s what Adam said when I first asked him if he was cheating. But the fucker didn’t know I had receipts.Innocent until proven guilty.
