Page 73 of Blackout

Laughing slightly, he bashfully swipes a hand over his face and shakes his head. “Broke my heart when I found out I lost my shot with you to the man who bought me my first six pack.”

My lips curve and my eyes widen at the confession.

“Get out of here,” I scoff.

“Yeah,” he laughs.

“I never knew.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he teases. “You were too busy chasing Blackie.”

“I didn’t chase him,” I argue.

He lets out a full belly laugh and raises an eyebrow, calling bullshit. Gnawing on my lip, I suppress the urge to smile.

I totally chased him.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I admit.

“Hey, it’s all good. You got the guy in the end, right? Nothing like a woman who knows what she wants.”

I don’t know about all that. Sure, I married Blackie but thinking back, I wasn’t really a woman who knew what she wanted. I was more like a crazed teenager determined to have her crush fall in love with her.

“Is that so?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replies. “Women today don’t know what the fuck they want. If you show them too much attention, they think you’re ready to buy a ring. If you don’t, you got a side piece. A guy can’t win.”

That doesn’t sound very promising.

“Have you tried a dating app?” I suggest.

“Whoa, hold the phone, Lace. I’m not saying I’m in the market for an old lady or anything like that. I’m just saying the dating scene is like a fucking cesspool of indecisive women. But to answer your question, I’ve occasionally dabbled with dating apps for a hookup. The problem with those things, is the women who use them filter their photos so much you walk right past them when you meet them, and they think you stood them up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Fuck, yeah I did. It’s not my fault. It’s a real problem. If one of these broads go missing, no one will be able to find them because they’ll be searching for someone with bunny ears.”

“So, it’s safe to say you weren’t roaming dating apps this whole time.”

“No, I was sexting,” he deadpans.

“What?”

“Oh, come on, sure you and Blackie sext every now and then, don’t you? Like when he’s on the road?”

Laughing, I shake my head. Of course Blackie and I sext. We fuck like rabbits, imagine the withdrawals—no pun intended—when he goes on a run with the club. We’d never last.

“You probably want to right now,” he continues.

Well, I didn’t until this very moment.

“Nico,” I warn, still laughing.

If I was sure it was safe to text him, I’d probably excuse myself and send Blackie a photo of my boobs to kick things into gear, but he left so abruptly and didn’t look all too happy.

“I can go in the other room if you’d like,” he offers and for a second, I wonder if I said that out loud. Relenting, I shake my head.

“You’re impossible,” I say as he shrugs his shoulders.

---