“You are the stupidest fucking man I’ve ever known.”
“Without a doubt.” He winces. He goes to move and then gets dizzy and has to hold on to the car for balance.
“Get in the car,” she demands. “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“What?” he stammers. “No.”
“You have no blood left in your body, you stupid fuck!” she cries.
He puts his head into his hands, and I want to burst out laughing so hard. I bite my lip to stop myself as I look between the two of them.
“What’s the ER going to do?” he cries.
“Other than laugh at the middle-aged man with a Tinder erection, nothing. Get in the damn car.”
He goes to walk and then falls to the ground, and we both run to pick him up and put him in the front of Molly’s car. I climb in the back.
Molly’s eyes flick to him as he lies back on the seat in pain, and I stay silent, unsure what to say. I’ll catch a cab home from the ER. I don’t want to be in the way.
Molly shakes her head as she drives. “So . . . let me get this straight, Michael. You’re going out with Madam Whorebag tonight, and you go to all this trouble to satisfy whoever she is in bed?”
He looks over at her and clenches his jaw as if he knows what’s coming next.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to have sex with me at all, Michael!” she screams. “How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”
“Because you didn’t fucking like it,” he fires back.
“Because I got two fucking pumps.”
My eyes widen. Oh jeez. I so don’t want to be here right now. I slump into my seat to try to hide.
“Why do you think I have to take this shit? Huh?” he yells. “Because I knew what a fucking disappointment I was to you.”
Molly’s eyes widen in rage. “You were never a disappointment. You were fucking lazy and didn’t care.”
“I did so care!” he screams. “Losing you is the biggest regret of my life.”
I put my head into my hands. I wonder if they would notice if I dived out of the moving car.
Molly glares at him, and the car coasts to one side of the highway. I wince. “Eyes on the road, Moll,” I whisper. She straightens the car.
“So why didn’t you call her to come and get you tonight, huh?”
“Because I wouldn’t tell her anything about me.” He sighs as he leans his head onto his hand, clearly upset.
“Why not?” she yells.
“Because she’s not you!”
The car falls silent, and my eyes fill with tears. He still loves her.
Oh . . . this is so sad.
Moments later we pull into the hospital and help him out of the car and into the reception room, and Molly goes up to the desk. “My husband needs to see somebody, please.”
“What’s the problem?” the nurse asks.
She drops her shoulders as she steels herself to say it out loud. “I accidentally gave him too much Viagra.”
Michael takes her hand in a silent thank-you, and I smile softly.
She’s covering for him to save him the embarrassment.
“Oh.” The nurse’s face falls, and she gets a wheelchair. With Molly walking beside him, he is wheeled down the corridor.
I take a seat and inhale deeply as my faith in the human race is restored.
I learned a lesson tonight—love comes in all shapes and sizes.
Jameson
I tap the whiteboard in front of me as I stand and go through our discussion topics. “This projection here is based on the current climate. However, that may change when the election goes through.”
Buzz. My phone dances across the table, and I look up at the men sitting around the board table. Damn it, just let it ring out. Elliot glances down at my phone at the same time to see the caller ID.
FB.
But I want to hear her voice; two minutes won’t hurt. “I have to take this call. Elliot, can you go through the advertising strategy for next month, please, while I do?”
“Sure thing.” Elliot stands and takes over, and I answer the call and leave the room and head into Christopher’s office next door.
“Hello.”
“Hi.” Emily’s happy voice beams down the phone line.
“Hi.” I find myself smiling stupidly as I stand at the window overlooking London.
“Did I interrupt anything?” she asks.
I smirk. Only a meeting with twelve management staff. “No, not at all.”
“I called to tell you I bought new sneakers.”
I smile. “You did?”
“Uh-huh, they’re motorized, so I will be whipping your ass on park runs from here on in. Just thought I should warn you.”
God . . . she’s so refreshingly normal. When has a woman ever called me to tell me she bought new sneakers? “I highly doubt that.”
“Oh hell, you won’t believe what happened last night,” she continues. “Molly’s ex-husband took two Viagra, maybe three, and passed out while he was driving because he had no blood left in his body because it was all in his dick, so we had to take him to the ER.”
I laugh out loud. “What the hell? Is that a thing?”
“Yes, it’s a thing. Who knew?”
I widen my eyes. Jesus. “I’ll have to stop taking it, then,” I tease.
She laughs. “No, it’s okay. I completely know what to do now. Passing out is well worth it. You stay on that shit—we just need to tourniquet it. I’ve got us covered.”
We both laugh and then fall silent.
“Three days,” I murmur.
“Three days,” she repeats.
God, I’ve never been so anxious to get home in my life.
“What are you doing now?” I ask.
“I’m about to put a face mask on and take a bath with cut-up cucumber over my eyes. You’re missing out on a real visual sensation over here.”
“No doubt.” I smile. This woman is so naturally beautiful. She doesn’t try to be something she’s not. I love that about her.
I love a lot of things about her . . .
“So you’ve added cucumbers to your beauty regimen now?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to make you less puffy.”
I smile broadly. “Cucumbers are good for a lot of things. Maybe it should be added to our sexual regimen as well.”
She bursts out laughing. “You’re a sicko, Mr. Miles.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“I’ll let you go.”
I smirk as I look out the window. “Goodbye, Emily.”
“Goodbye, Jay,” she whispers. The phone goes dead, and I head back into the boardroom and take a seat.
Christopher is now talking about something, and I take my seat next to Elliot.
He leans over and whispers, “You have Zuckerberg on speed dial now?”
“Huh?” I frown.
“FB . . . that stands for Facebook, right?”
I frown and then realize he’s talking about the call from Emily.
FB stands for fuck bunny, not Facebook. I smirk, and then I pinch the bridge of my nose as my chuckle breaks through.
“What’s so funny?” Elliot whispers.
“Zuckerberg bought motorized sneakers.”