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Shit.
“I ran into him one day before that. I had no clue who he was. Accident at the coffee house. It kinda didn’t register until after that meeting with him and Jeff.”
“Oh, thank God.” She holds her chest, letting out a sigh of relief. “I thought he was trying to sway you into seeing him. He’s such a manipulator. Though don’t believe anything Charlie says about him being in love with me. That boat has long since sailed.”
“Um… excuse me,” Charlie interrupts. “Give me one other reason why Wesley would hold onto the business? He has money. That can’t be it.”
“He does it to piss Logan off. He’s competitive. It doesn’t mean he’s still in love with me. He just likes to be a pain in the ass. Anyway, can we change the subject, please?”
And just like that, we start talking about books.
I’m halfway into the conversation, still thinking about what Charlie said. Maybe Wesley is using me to get to Emerson. It makes sense. But then my mind wanders back to the last time I saw him, telling me how he can’t stay away from me. The more I try to analyze the situation, the more my head begins to hurt.
The two of them stop talking, both telling me to wake them in ten minutes. Ten minutes later, I hear both of them snoring. Motherhood looks exhausting, and I don’t dare wake them, giving them some extra time to nap.
I read Wesley’s text again, also thinking about what the media says about him. Mama will have a heart attack if I tell her I was alone with such a man.
I know I shouldn’t be enterta
ining this.
Or even be typing what my fingers so desperately do.
Me: No clue about alligators but now that you’ve informed me, I’ll cross it off my bucket list. So, you’re in Louisiana, I had no idea. I thought you fell off the face of the earth and landed in Narnia where cell reception doesn’t exist.
I hit send faster than you can say idiot. I instantly regret it until he responds seconds later, and my heart does this nervous beat like an adrenaline rush of some sort.
Wesley: I’m filming. Still around. Though, I thought you were in Narnia since you didn’t respond from the morning or my text from last week.
So, he’s waiting for me to respond? This guy is so hot and cold. One minute he’s telling me he can’t stay away and the next minute he creates this distance without even telling me. I’m not going to let him off easy.
Me: 6 hours is COMPLETELY different than 5 days.
I hit send, take a large drink from my iced tea bottle which instantly cools me down. My skin feels extremely hot, and I know I shouldn’t be in the sun for much longer. I wonder if Emerson minds if I borrow her hat?
Wesley: Remember, you didn’t respond. You sound a little worked up? I’ll be back next Friday.
The nerve of him! I’m typing faster than the speed of light, desperate to relay my wit and prove to him that he means nothing though everything inside of me begs to differ.
Me: That’s nice. I’m sure your housekeeper would love to know that. I, on the other hand, find that information irrelevant.
The bubble appears on the screen, longer than it should have. I find myself tapping my knee impatiently. This is the most annoying thing ever.
Wesley: Don’t start. I’m alone and nothing can come of this. Excuse the pun.
Wesley: And while you’re sitting there with a confused look on your face trying to understand what I just said, your ass is a turn on.
I’ll see you next Friday.
I throw my cell on top of my bag, letting out a huff which wakes the girls up. They both comment on how fantastic it was to nap without children, and how refreshed they are after only thirty minutes.
“Oh, Milana, you look red,” Emerson scowls, touching my face with her fingertip.
I want to tell her that her ex-fiancé knows how to push buttons when he wants, and perhaps the red face is from anger, not heatstroke.
“I should probably go, my skin is so Alaskan that I worry I’ll prune into a ball of sunburn.”
“You can borrow my hat?”
