Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I’ve seen divorce before, and its effects on those left in its wake, and sometimes the kids resented the hell out of their parents for moving on. Maybe because they were older and had more knowledge, they were less judgmental and more supportive, and I can only be glad about that because the more they talked about him, the more excited I became at the prospect of where this thing might be leading.
I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions for the last few months since finding out about the affair, from anger to coldness to my mental breakdown after signing the papers and now this. I might have talked a good game about moving on, but even though I no longer feel the same about my ex, it doesn’t mean that I was ready to jump on the first dick that wagged my way.
But it did feel good dancing with him, being held like that again after so long. Maybe Savanna was right, and I should just go for it and have some fun. But I didn’t have the first clue where to start or how to make myself believe that it was okay for me to do this. I mean, isn’t this a surefire way to get myself hurt again?
The three of them had left after breakfast to get back to their lives, and I sat at my breakfast table drinking cup after cup of coffee and playing he loves me he loves me, not with the pieces of napkin I’d shredded.
I don’t have the first clue about dating as an adult, as you can see, but each time I looked at the picture Savanna had sent to my phone of him and me at the club, something inside me wanted to go for it.
I guess everyone saw that stupid thing on the Internet because I got a visit from my ex, who was fit to be tied. I opened the door to see him fuming because he didn’t know that the locks had been changed, and I stood in the doorway, blocking him from entering like he was a stranger.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“What is this shit, Jolene? What the fuck is going on?” I closed the door and locked it, and when he tried looking through the half blinds on the door, I closed those, too, and went back to my coffee. Looks like someone doesn’t understand how divorce works.
“Jolene, open this door and talk to me.”
“Go away, I’m expecting company.” He didn’t say anything for a good minute before he started trying to break my door down.
“My boyfriend is a cop; you’d better leave before I call him.”
“If you have another man in my….”
He stopped talking, and I thought he had a heart attack at my damn door before I heard murmurs out there, and someone else was talking to him. I grabbed my phone and looked at the security camera. “Oh shit!”
I jumped up and opened the door, and before I could say a word, Damon pulled me to him with a “Hi baby, miss me?” Then he kissed me right in front of Kevin. I forgot he was there because the kiss was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
I clung to him for support when he released my lips. He smiled at me and then turned to my fuming ex. “Did you two have an appointment that I didn’t know about or something?”
“Yes…” Kevin.
“No, we didn’t.”
“Were you just trying to break down her door? If she doesn’t want you here, this is trespassing. I’m off duty, but I can still make a citizen’s arrest.” Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Even Kevin understood the look Damon gave him. I didn’t know if I needed to pee or jump him, but this was better than a Lifetime movie.
“Jolene, you and I need to talk.”
“About what?” He looked at Damon and then back at me and I wished I cared about the hurt look on his face. Petulant child, that’s what I saw. I don’t want to play with this toy, but you can’t have it either.
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“Not really, no.”
“You may go now.” Damon smiled at him, and since he didn’t have any other way around him, he huffed and walked off.
Now, Damon seemed sane enough after I let him into my house. “These are for you.” He handed me the large bouquet of flowers he’d been carrying, and I found a place for them in my living room because they were showoff worthy. I bet that vase cost no less than five hundred dollars.
Like I said, he seemed sane. “What was he doing here?”
“Beats me; I guess he saw the picture of us on the Internet.”
“Fuck this!” That’s all I heard before I was lifted and thrown over his shoulder.
He walked up the stairs like he lived here, looked left and right, and chose the right direction to the master suite. “Is this the bed he had you on?” How the hell was I supposed to answer that?