Page 31 of Crazy In Love
I do not want your toilet. It will remain on my front porch until you arrange to have it picked up. I will be waiting for the apology that you owe me. It’s just two words. Just say: “I’m sorry.” It’s not that hard.
So let me get this straight… I attempt to have your building power washed from the egg attack, and you send him away and refuse service. Now I send you a very generous peace offering, a toilet most asses would dream about sitting on… and you’re refusing that as well?
Emilia
Ahhhh… Daddy Warbucks is following along now.
Who the fuck is Daddy Warbucks?
Emilia
Of course I find a name that will intentionally offend you, and you claim you don’t know who it is.
Not claiming it. I don’t know who it is.
Emilia
Google it. He’s the rich asshole in Annie, you jackass.
Wow. So many names today. Daddy Warbucks, Deep Pockets, and now Jackass.
Emilia
I googled it. Not offended.
Three little dots moved across the screen, and then they disappeared.
Why was I disappointed?
I sent a quick text to Brenner telling him to have the toilet picked up in the morning. I told him to deliver it to Archer’s house, as he’d stopped by this week and raved about my toilet.
I scratched the back of my neck and groaned because this meant another week of pickleball with my father. I pushed to my feet, turned off all the lights, and headed down the hall. I stopped in the bathroom and glanced at my nose, which was still slightly bruised, but the cut had scabbed up, and it would heal in no time. Thank God he didn’t break the thing.
As long as I didn’t take another shot to the face.
When I climbed in bed and closed my eyes, Emilia Taylor flooded my thoughts.
Her long dark hair falling around her shoulders, and those bright-blue eyes, both angry and warm every time I looked at her.
And that goddamn pink pickleball skirt.
I shook my head, desperate to push thoughts of her away.
I would not fantasize about a woman I despised.
Even if she didn’t write “The Taylor Tea,” she’d always had it out for me.
It didn’t matter that she was fucking gorgeous, and I hadn’t been laid in a while.
My hand slipped inside my briefs, and I stroked it a few times.
And I was not proud to say that I got off to thoughts of Emilia.
It wasn’t even the first time… and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
“Unc-ee, why aren’t Hen, Lu, and Lolo here?” Melody asked after she’d asked her father first, and he’d told her to ask me. Dickhead. I sent the dude a fancy shitter, and still he passes this one off to me. We were sitting at my parents’ big farmhouse table for Sunday dinner, even though they were out of town for the latest Jelly Roll concert, along with my aunt and uncle.
We still came here to eat, because it was our thing. Sundays were always about dinner at the home where we’d grown up.
