Lydia: I should have known you couldn’t hold onto a man like that. You come from trash. You’ll always be trash.
Walt: Thanks for making my life hell.
Chase: It was only a matter of time. Maybe now you’ll come home.
Worse were the ones that were meant to make her feel better. They brought on the guilt.
Charlotte: Are you okay?
Melody: Say the word, and I’ll kick his ass.
Charlotte: Or we could bring wine and man bash.
About the time Brooke arrived with ice cream and wine, both ridiculous for the early morning but well-meant, Jo had looked at the picture again. The time stamp hadn’t lined up with his drive home from the club and calling her. There wasn’t enough time for him to have sex. She’d Google-mapped it to be certain and proved it impossible.
Then again, how could she know for certain he was really at home when he called? Maybe he was sitting in his car with the girl the whole time or at her place. Maybe they were laughing at her. Or oh god, maybe he’d been fucking the woman in the photo instead of his fist.
She’d wanted to vomit, then just as quickly she’d dismissed all the maybes. She’d heard the fridge open and shut, heard him pop the top on a bottle, the whir of his zipper, the rustle of sheets as he climbed into bed. Even now, arousal slickened her pussy as she remembered the rush of his breath and the guttural roar of his orgasm. If the woman had been there, she’d have heard that, too.
In the end, she couldn’t explain to Brooke, much less to herself, why she’d decided to believe in him. Maybe she just wanted to because, hell, if she didn’t, she wouldn’t get any more delicious orgasms. Bigger orgasms. Fucking rock-her-world orgasms. That was what Brooke called them.
That and she still needed the money. She had to keep her eye on the prize.
Leaning against the counter, Jo sifted through the notes she’d confiscated from each floral bribe. The first one came with the red roses. “I know it sounds cliché, but it’s not what it looks like. Please unblock me so I can explain.”
Brooke had scoffed, taking a hard stand against what she perceived as cheating even when Jo reminded her they were fake dating. Jo had decided to let him stew a while.
The note with the daisies read, “Yes, she offered, but I said no. If the picture was taken a second later, you’d see that.”
More stewing.
“Look at the time stamp, then check the time I called you. There’s no way anything could have happened.” She smiled. It had taken her fifteen minutes to figure that out. It had taken him three hours.
With the tulips, he’d changed tactics. “Why would I want her when all I can think about was that kiss and the way your ‘two lips’ felt against mine?”
The pink peonies, her favorite, had made her blush. Fuckboy was naughty. “I’m on my knees, begging forgiveness. Might as well make use of me while I’m down here.”
“What do you think he’ll say next?” Brooke asked as the timer went off. She looked at her phone. “It’s almost two.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jo laid the notes on the table and pulled the cookies from the oven. She glanced at the last delivery, a foundling olive tree. “Since a branch isn’t enough.”
She really should let him off the hook. Brooke, too. “You should go home. You were here all morning yesterday helping me and now this mess. Aaron’s gonna hate me if you stay much longer.”
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this.” She sighed. “Besides, he took Andrew golfing. I’m not sure if he’s doing it to give me some space or if he just wants some time apart and he’s using Andrew as cover.”
Ugh. I’ve been a shitty friend, so wrapped up in my own drama.“I’m sure he’s just trying to keep the peace.”
“That or he’s trying to keep me from killing his brother. I’ve been a bit unhinged lately.”
Jo paused mid-spatula. “What did you do?”
“Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that. Nothing that can hurt him…much.”
“Brooke?”
“I put a fiber supplement in his beer.” She giggled. “That backfired, literally. He kept the only bathroom we have tied up.”
“Brooke!”
