Page 53 of My Wife
She twists her lips to the side. “True, but just think of the opportunity it gives you to up your game. We grow through adversity.”
“You sound like a motivational speaker.”
“Thanks for coming to my talk. I’m offering a limited-time discount on all platinum packages. Just sign over the contents of your bank account and I’ll change your life.” She holds out a bag of licorice. “I did that once and ended up almost having to file bankruptcy. Turns out the thirty-day money-back guarantee had a loophole. Then I worked for a woman who ran such a company and almost made the worst decision of my life. Thankfully, her son eloped, so no harm done, really.”
I turn my nose up at the self-help suggestion and licorice. “No, thanks.”
“You requested it.”
“I didn’t.”
As if ignoring me, she says, “Only people who hate themselves eat black licorice. The red kind is where it’s at.”
“I don’t hate myself.”
She shrugs as if that’s up for debate. “Also, I thought we were sticking to texting to communicate. I had to update the Knights app to read your message and I have a very limited data plan. Took me half an hour to log into the Wi-Fi here.”
The pranks among the Knights are pretty mild, all things considered. I blame them. “That’s because I didn’t message you. Not through the app and not about the licorice.”
As if on cue, my teammates parade out of the locker room, surveying me and then sneaking a peek at Jessica. Grimaldi winks at her.
A primal rage burns inside. If we were football players, I’d drag him out to the turf, but before I can do the hockey version, Pierre says, “We smoked him out. I knew something was up. Someone will have to change his app password.”
A growl comes from my throat. Time to make her quit being my assistant.
Jessica’s cheeks are on fire as if she discerned what they’re implying.
“No,” I state.
“No?” she says, voice squeaky.
“Nope,” I repeat.
“But—?”
“Not a chance.”
I’m not sure if we’re having the same conversation, but for my part, I want to make it clear that despite the stunt the guys pulled—impersonating me on the app—I’m not interested in her. Not in the slightest. Not even her butt. Especially that.
“I detest cake,” I blurt.
She gapes at me. “Cakes are perfect for all occasions!”
“You can’t solve everything with cake.”
“Why not?”
“Because life isn’t a story with a happy ending.”
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I know that, Liam. But you could ease up on being such a rude, crude, brooding grump.”
“And you’re a ray of sunshine.”
“You say that like you’d rather stay inside with the curtains closed. By yourself.”
“At least I like my own company.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Her chin quivers.
