AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hadn’t texted him since arriving at the airport earlier that morning. Or was it already yesterday morning? I probably had a million texts from him. Dozens of calls. He must be losing his—
JoJo: hottie Irish dick pic pleeeeeez
There was also a message from the wedding venue confirming the dates we’d pencilled in for the ceremony, and an automated message from my dentist, time for another cleaning.
But there were no messages from Tim. No calls. Just a calendar reminder about our dinner reservation in four weeks.
I was the kind of drunk where you have to squeeze one eye shut to type anything (also known as the kind of drunk where you definitely shouldn’t be texting). With the help of autocorrect and several taps of the Back button I was able to type out something that I thought was mostly coherent.
Me: Good news darling. Got the role!
As I hit Send, I grumbled to myself, “Also good news: I didn’t die in a fiery explosion over the Atlantic…”
I’d almost forgotten about Mason and the woman since the alcohol and the jet lag and the sleep exhaustion were all starting to catch up with me. Looking up to see them, to remember them, was like a splash of ice water to the face.
Mason threw some euros down on the bar. She collected her purse from the counter and her jacket from the hook underneath it. He pulled her in tight against his big, broad chest as she stumbled and laughed. His hands slid down her back and grabbed fistfuls of her ass. He said something and she nodded.
It was her fingers his were intertwining with. It was her neck he was leaning over to suck at before he pulled her along behind him. Her hair he was tucking behind the ear as he leaned against the exit and paused.
She slipped past him and he finally looked back toward me. He smiled. That fucker winked. Goddamn winked.
Then he was gone.
I sat there on the couch, alone, and watched the door fall shut behind him. Behind him and the woman.
I imagined them falling into a cab together then mounting the stairs at Dublin Ink together. I imagined them taking off each other’s clothes…running their hands over each other’s bodies….lowering themselves slowly to the bed to—
“Goddammit,” I growled as I clenched my eyes shut. I rubbed my knuckles against them and I tried not to see anything. Anything at all.
When I reopened my eyes, I checked my phone. Nothing from Tim. Not a goddamn thing.
It would have been smart to just get a cab myself. To go to Mason’s place. To sleep. But I hadn’t done a single smart thing the whole night, so heck, why start now?
I stumbled (not stalked) toward the bar and slumped over it (I had neither the energy nor the will to slam my fist down on anything except for maybe my own stupid head…or heart). I ordered another round.
I kept ordering until I was sure that when I walked past the bedroom I wasn’t supposed to go in—the bedroom where Mason would be fucking that woman, his cock thrusting in and out of her, the bedframe rattling noisily against the wall—I would be so drunk that there was no way in hell that I would possibly remember.
Then I ordered one more round after that.
For good measure.
