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Does she not understand how my mind works?
Does she know that avoiding me will only hurt herself?
I envy those around me, the ones who found their happiness within themselves. They don’t need anyone to survive, nor bring them happiness. My switch is jammed on self-destruct, and nothing can change that. There is a certain satisfaction in bitterness, but this time, I’m left unsatisfied.
It’s because my heart is beating erratically, pumped full of adrenaline every time I
picture her face and imagine myself inside her. I once felt something similar with Em, but not like this. Not to the extent that I struggle to breathe and everything hurts like fucking hell.
I clutch my chest in a state of panic when my cell rings, blasting its annoying sound all over the large room.
Farrah.
“What do you want?” I grit impatiently.
“Always the nicest of greetings, Wesley. So, when are you coming to visit your son?” She laughs, and I know that laugh. She’s high on coke. Fucking whore doesn’t know how to control herself.
“Quit the fucking daddy talk. Seriously, what the fuck do you want?”
“So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours? Aside from the fact that she’s a nobody and from Alaska. C’mon, Wesley, Alaska? What are you doing? You can do better than that.”
I clench my jaw, the stubble sharp and wildly grown. She’s gotten to me in the worse possible way—talking smack about the woman I love.
“Leave her alone. What I do is my business.”
“Sweetie…” she sings, annoyingly, “… you should know that I like to make other people’s business my business. I will say her brother is a dud in the bedroom.”
“You fucked Flynn?”
“I didn’t fuck him. Please, give me some credit. I gave him what he wanted… he’s cute but argh… I would have preferred you.”
I’m void of any emotion toward Farrah. She plays the game and never by the rules.
“We’re so done, Farrah. Leave Milana alone, leave Flynn alone, and go back to Marsh. Shouldn’t you be riding his alimony train by now?”
“Don’t worry, I have Marsh covered. You, on the other hand, how can I get you in my bed again? We had some great times, you can’t deny that.”
The thought alone disgusts me. Farrah is that disease you just can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try, a parasite that crawls under your skin.
“Nothing you say or do will get me anywhere near you,” I state, adamantly.
“Not even when I tell you I have an email ready to go to Entertainment News with pictures of you and Milana? There’s a nice one of her leaving your place wearing your shirt. The media will love this story. Can you imagine Emerson’s reaction? Her assistant banging her ex-fiancé. Where’s the trust?” She laughs again, the edge of insanity in her tone.
“Why would you do that? Honestly, you’ve got no gain.”
“Why? Because it would hurt everyone you love, then they will leave you, and you will have no choice but to crawl back to me because I’m all you’ll have.”
“You’re fucked. I don’t care what you do, Milana won’t care. As for Em, she’ll get over it. We’re tighter than you think.” I grin, remembering how to get to Farrah and expose her insecurity. “I know how much you hate that. Gorgeous Emerson with her perfect life, natural body, husband you can’t seem to get your hands on, and wait… everybody wants Emerson. Didn’t she just get the cover of Vogue? It’s like she has the whole package… and once upon a time, I loved her. Not you… but her.”
The pleasure of hurting Farrah is far too much fun. I lick my lips, listening to her heavy breathing that follows with an hysteric scream and a glass smashing against the wall.
“Are you done?” she cries dramatically.
“Why yes, sweetheart.”
“Goodbye Wesley. Oops… click.”
Chapter Twenty-One
