I shut up about it and sigh. “She and I aren’t a thing anymore. You know how it goes. Some women just need a little adrenaline, a military guy, and sex. It fucking sucks.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Shrinks. I should’ve known. They all need their heads examined.” I wave to my Uber and jump in the back seat.
“Sorry, man. That’s raw. I got a Senator in Washington needing some babysitting. You in?”
“Sounds good. When does it start?”
“I’ll book you on the next flight out and send you the background.”
“Copy that. Out.” Before I go, I can’t help but check Blakely’s Facebook page. Her status is single. I don’t know why it bugs me so. She probably never had a chance to change it. The thought of her with someone else makes my breakfast turn to acid but whatever. She doesn’t want what I have to offer and I need to move on.
Alone. I fucking hate the word but I’m going to embrace it and make it my best friend. Maybe then, it won’t hurt so bad. For now, I stare at her picture, wondering how I screwed up so bad she won’t even respond to my texts.
And who was that dude guy?
I shouldn’t have married her, I shouldn’t have been so bossy pretending in bed, and I sure as hell should not have yelled at her when she was so vulnerable. When I think how she might’ve ended up in the top of the freezer, I shudder. I did what I had to do. If my heart got all broken up in the process, so be it.
I glance down at the phone calls I received, hoping one was from her but all I got is Lucky and Suds, probably trying to console me because she blabbed her guts out to them what an asshole I am. I delete the messages without listening. I don’t need to hear that shit.
