Page 127 of Toxic Kiss

“Come on, baby, don’t beeee like that. God…sooo dramatic.”

“How drunk are you, Charles?”

Even though it pales in comparison to the cheating, I can’t help but find it annoying that he found time to go out drinking and singing karaoke.

“Only a little, wee, teeny weenie amount.”

“Teeny weenie is correct,” I mumble.

“Okay, I’m a lot drunk, but that’s not the point. The point is I miss you…wait, what did you say?”

My eyes roll. Insult a man’s manhood, and they will always hear that shit.

“Nothing.”

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare out the window to the building across the street, praying that someone there might save me from this…whatever this is. I don’t advocate for murder, but right now, seeing someone get shot is a far better option than this conversation.

“Charles…”

“No, listen,” he rushes, words tumbling over each other. “I love you, Haven. I do. We’re meant to be together. This is just…a rough patch. I had cold feet and panicked. I’m an idiot.”

A rough patch.

My grip tightens on the phone.

“You cheated on me. Not once or twice, but with multiple women. You’ve been using your secretary as a fuck doll at work, and then took her to Tahiti. But you couldn’t be bothered to talk about our wedding. That’s not an oopsie, Charles.”

“Okay, but⁠—”

“Did you hear the part where I said multiple women?”

“Details,” he says, like that somehow makes it better. “That’s just details, like the tiny print you don’t bother reading. Look, the headline is we’re meant to be.”

I snort.

“I can’t do this without you,” he continues, voice slipping into a pathetic, desperate tone. “I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I need you.”

A week ago, before I had the evidence in my hands, I might have believed him. Now? It just sounds empty. Rage bubbles inside of me, making it impossible to sit still.

“So that’s why you’re calling me at four in the morning?” I stand up and pace the room, looking for something to throw. “You’re drunk and lonely.”

Knock, knock.

I turn toward the door.

“Haven, it’s me. Can we talk?” Cy calls through the door.

“Great two fucking assholes. Two…two times more fun,” I mumble.

“That’s not fair,” Charles says quickly. “I only have one asshole.”

I smack my forehead.

“No…oh, never mind. It’s never going to work.”

“But I’m calling because I love you.”

Knock, knock.