Page 16 of With a Cherry On Top

“Talk to her at least,” I try. “Please, Josie. Just talk to your daughter for five minutes. Tell her you miss her, that you love her and you’ll come back to her.Please.”

She hesitates and I hold my breath, waiting.

Until the signal tells me she hung up.

She hung up.

On me—on her daughter.

“Daddy! Can I have the PB&J now?”

My chin is shaking, my eyes burning so much I can barely keep them open, and I’m pretty sure if I hold on to this phone any longer, I’ll crack it.

But I’m all Sadie has. For now, and maybe forever. So I force a smile on my face and get up to take care of my kid.

CHAPTER 4

Emotional Support Orgasm

Itap my fingers on the edge of the nightstand, eyes are glued to my laptop screen—specifically, to TOP’s homepage.

I don’t know why I’m back here. Hell, I even had to add money to my account because I used the gift card already. And it’s not like seeing some stranger’s naked body will help in any way at all—maybe at the moment, but it’ll wear down quickly.

So why am I here?

I should just clean up the mess of clothes piling up in the corner next to the big wardrobe, but after straining my ear to make sure there’s no noise coming from Sadie’s bedroom, I adjust the laptop on my lap and type her username in the search bar.

Cherry.

She’s the first result that shows up, that shot of her in a pink bra and thong bringing back the familiar pang of want.

I peruse her profile, my brows shooting up my forehead when I see she has dozens of thousands of followers—not that I’m surprised. The world is full of losers like myself, and she’s more beautiful than beauty.

Under her username there’s a list of the things she’s comfortable doing—though by the length of it, I suspect it’d be easier to list what shedoesn’tconsent to. And besides, another field reads “On a call.”

Of course.

What did I expect?

There must be a line to get some one-on-one time with her.

Slumping back against the wicker headboard, I keep scrolling through her profile. Photos of her nearly naked and bent in every sort of position litter my screen, and I can distinctly feel my mouth watering. My erection stiffening.

There’s content I could pay for—explicit, it says, as if the rest is PG-13—and though I can’t deny how badly I want to see those tits again, I don’t click on it.

It wouldn’t be the same, would it?

I scroll back up, briefly considering checking out other profiles, then realizing I’ve got no drive to. I’m hovering over theXto close the page when her status changes from orange to green. From “On a call” to “Taking calls.”

Nausea grips me and before I can make a fully conscious decision, I’m pressing on the call button.

“Fucking hell,” I breathe out as the call screen appears and the rings accumulate.

Maybe she’s not going to answer. There must be a lot of people calling her, right? Shit, maybe I don’twanther to answer.

The screen buffers, the ringing subsides, and my heart leaps in my throat as she appears, as beautiful as ever.

“Cole,” she says, and I detect surprise in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

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