Me: You wish
Jackson: Yes, I do
Me: What do you want?
Jackson: Can’t a guy make sure his friends aren’t face down in a ditch?
Me: Aw how sweet
Jackson: *kiss emoji* *middle finger emoji*
Mark: You’re both assholes. Did you tell her the truth?
Jackson: Read me a bedtime story grandpa?
Mark: Fuck off.
Me: Yes. She took it well. She asked for some time to process.
Jackson: So you’re saying I still have a chance?
Me: *middle finger emoji* No. Mark, I’m on my way home. Meet you there?
Mark: Yep, be there in thirty.
Jackson: Give your hot cousin a smooch from me.
Me: No
Jackson: I feel like she’d be super dominant in the bedroom. I’m into it.
Me: Fuck off, she’s married
Jackson: Don’t kink shame me, you’ll hurt my feelings.
Jordy: For the thousandth time Jackson, TMI. Call me when you’re on the plane, Luke. I’ll tell you about Skye’s latest douche canoe.
Me: Fuck
I sigh and walk into my condo. Skye is almost as bad as Brando. When we were getting ready to move to San Diego, I forced myself to have the talk with her about the importance of safe sex. I shudder at the memory. Yet she was receptive. She asked questions, and I answered them as best I could. When she asked me about birth control, I told her to talk to Emilia. Then I bleached my brain.
I shower and change into jeans and a t-shirt. My suitcase is ready to go, so I brew some coffee while I wait for Mark. The urge to cancel my trip is high, all because of a certain redhead.
I smile at the memory of our conversation last night. When women found out my net worth in the past, all they saw were dollar signs. I would disappear behind an expectation that I could never meet.
But that never happened with Liv. She didn’t even hint at wanting to know what car I drive. Hope takes hold with a firm grip and I grin. It slips as Jackson’s words sink in. He’s right. She didn’t commit to anything yet. With a sigh, I sink onto the barstool. I yank my phone out of my pocket and start a text to tell her I can’t wait to see her again. My thumb hovers over the send button. She asked for time. I need to respect that, so I delete the text and return to my coffee. I can only hope time doesn’t kill whatever chance I have.