Page 125 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
Chuck:You ungrateful bitch.That vet doesn't know you like I did.I MADE you.
Chuck:That nurse who complained?Gone.I know whose ass to kiss and whose ass to threaten.
There's a pause.He totally forgot he said I could record this.
Chuck:Did you ever wonder what Adam wrote all those years ago?He was practically begging you to stay in touch.A little desperate, don't you think?Like a video-chat romance would have lasted.I had to delete those messages.For your own good.It was ethical, really.
Adam's arm tightens around me."Keep going," he whispers."Let him give us everything."
Eve:The thing about ethics, Chuck, is that they're not optional.Not for doctors.Not for decent human beings.
Chuck:You think you can prove anything?Screen recording isn't even allowed on this app.Do you even read the terms and conditions?
Oh, Chuck.You beautiful, dumb man.
Eve:Screen recording?Oh, you're right.That's not allowed.But you told me I could record it.
Chuck Edison thinks he's invincible.
Chuck Edison thinks he's untouchable.
Chuck Edison never learned to shut the hell up.
And as I watch my screen, I can feel Adam behind me.Warm, solid, watching too.
And then, with a smile so sweet it belongs in a Hallmark movie, I type:“You do know there’s one more way to record a screen, right?”
The typing bubble pops up, then disappears.
Pops up again, then disappears again.
Chuck: Eve, let’s be reasonable.
Chuck: I was messing with you.You never could take a joke.
Chuck: Eve, answer me.
I exhale.My heart pounds.
Adam shifts behind me, watching.Waiting.
I type the final message.
Eve: You always said I was too serious.But you know what?I know how to be direct.I know how to take control.I know how to fix things.
I glance at Adam.His jaw is tight.His eyes dark.He knows what's coming next.
I hit send.
Eve: And, oh, Adam?He says hi.
And I don’t wait for an answer.Because I don’t care if he finally learned how to shut the hell up.Because he’s going to have to face the consequences of his actions.
I let out a slow breath.My pulse should be racing, but calm washes over me.
“It’s done,” I murmur And Adam?He lets out a low whistle and holds me for a few minutes, letting my heartrate slow down, letting the dogs cuddle with us.
And then he checks his phone.
