AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You come find me when you’re ready to talk about whatever the fuck this is,” I say, putting the ball in her court.
Regardless of the decision she makes, I know at this moment that no matter how much Lola Turned drives me insane, I also want to drive her wild.
One way or another, I’ll make this woman mine.
Now I just have to figure out how.
Twenty-Two
-Ben-
“Ah, he answers,”the voice says, the same tinkling lilt it’s always had as I bring my phone to my ear.
My mother.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, sitting back on my couch, a glass of whiskey in hand.
“What’s the occasion?” she asks, and I wonder how she can see me drinking on my couch on a Monday night.
The truth is, there is no occasion other than the shop closes early on Mondays, and despite my best efforts (and they have been plenty, no matter how many times I tell myself that the late, loud nights and endless walks through the stairwell in hopes of catching Lola were completelyunrelatedto Lola), I have nothing on my mind but a woman with reddish-blonde braids, hips I need to sink my fingers into, and a dark bruise marring her perfect skin.
And yet, somehow, despite my best efforts, she’s avoided me all together.
It’s been a full week since I’ve seen her last.
“What?”
“The occasion. Answering on the first ring. Not making me call a few more times this week until I’m worried Officer Garrison’s gonna be coming to my door to tell me some bad news.” My gut cramps knowing she’s not wrong—that is my typical way of handling calls.
“You caught me on a slow night.”
“I’d hope so. You’re single and your shop is closed tonight.”
“Stop talking with Hattie, Mom.”
The problem with Hattie being Hattie is she is the kind of person who instantly becomes best friends with everyone, including my mother, and will keep them in the loop of nearly everything and anything.
“At least Hattie answers when I call.”
“I just answered.”
“At least Hattie keeps me updated on your life.” I groan. “Onallaspects of your life.”
“Jesus, what’s this call for? To check in or get dirt?” My mom laughs, and the sound is nostalgic, though irritating,
“Hattie says you have a new neighbor that you’re enamored with.”
“I’m firing Hattie.”
“No, you’re not.” She’s not wrong. “So? Tell me. What’s going on?”
Another sigh.
I could handle this two ways. I could let her mull on whatever lies or inflated stories and build some kind of chaotic storyline in her mind, or I could give hermyside and hope she doesn’t talk to Hattie again.
“We have a new neighbor. She’s the mayor’s daughter, opened up a bakery.”
“And?”
