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“Alcohol and chocolate cake.”
“Love of my life, what are the chances you brought the chocolate cake with you?”
“In the car,” Max mumbled, still studying the picture.
“Please, Max,” Angelina pleaded. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to talk about it, look at it, or think about it. I want to eat my weight in cake and drink until I don’t feel a thing.”
“That is exactly what we will do.”
Max pulled out his phone and headed to get the cake.
Angelina sat on the couch, staring at nothing.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?” Jake offered.
She shook her head.
“Whiskey straight up or in coffee?”
“Bring the bottle and a glass.”
“Sweetness, whatever you want today. Tomorrow we can put one foot in front of the other and get back to life.”
Angelina nodded.
“One chocolate cake,” Max announced, placing it on the coffee table in front of her. “There are two more ready to go if we need them. All I have to do is call for delivery.”
Jake appeared with three forks and three glasses. Angelina sniffled. Her fairy godmen were taking care of her. Her heart was shattered. Gone were all of the what could have beens. In their place was an empty hole.
Today she was going to fill that Ben-sized hole with chocolate and booze. She could worry about the rest later. Tomorrow she would do the only thing she knew. She would work. Work until she was too tired to keep her eyes open. It was how she made herself the success she was now. It was what she would do until she could breathe again.
Chapter 18
It had been two weeks. Fourteen days without even a pitiful excuse text. Not a sorry to bang and run, or a hey, I heard you met my wife, not one single word from Ben. She didn’t want him back, especially if he was the bang and run kind of guy.
Angelina wasn’t sure what would be worse. The sad excuses that would inevitably pour from his lips or the silence. She wanted it over and forgotten about. The sooner he texted a shitty excuse, the sooner she could send him packing. With the picture of his kid on the way, she couldn’t forget that.
Another thing to pile on her worried mind, Angelina couldn’t reach her father. He wasn’t answering his phone or any of the texts she sent. Worry bloomed into agitation and quickly edged closer and closer to murderous. Was it a crime for a man to learn how to communicate?
Calling in a missing person report had crossed her mind more than once. She had no idea what to tell the police. Her request for a welfare check would be interesting, to say the least.
Hello. I’m searching for a guy that gave me the best orgasms of my life. He went to check on his wife, girlfriend, or baby momma. There is a possibility he has all of them separately. Can you check on him to make sure his wife didn’t kill him? Yes, I know she is a smug bitch. I want to tell him how much of a heartless asshole he is so that I can get on with my life. Where did he go, you ask? I have no idea. He left in the middle of the night.
Yeah, that call was going to be great.
While you’re searching aimlessly for a possible missing man, my father is off on one of his trips, trying to drive an RV with a broken leg. Would it be a terrible inconvenience to check on him? No, I don’t know where he is either. Just look for the giant motorhome driven by a man in a cast somewhere in the continental United States.
They would hang up on her for sure. Angelina wondered if it would be considered justifiable homicide if she offed one of them. Probably couldn’t claim it for both, but whichever one showed up first, it was the story she was sticking to.
Parts were delivered for the tractor. She hired a mechanic to fix it. Newly repaired, it sat behind the barn waiting. Getting a new driver was on her to-do list. It wasn’t at the top, but it was on the list.
The fields weren’t getting plowed or planted. She was getting dirty looks in town. A trip to the grocery store was a monumental pain in the ass. She reminded herself that people meant well. After the third person asked about the empty fields and who she spent time with, Angelina left her basket and hit the drive-through. She may have become a regular for fries and a shake.
Was there a specific number of times you could order the same thing before you became a regular?
One thing going her way was work. Work was getting done. It may be because she wasn’t sleeping, but that was beside the point. The number of things you could get done when you didn’t sleep was astounding. Without any interruptions, Angelina had gotten halfway through her waiting list.
Cort was thrilled with his house. Mack and Gary were excited to get started on their projects. They weren’t offended when she told them they both lost the bet. Instead, they doubled down, betting Ben would sweep her off her feet. The brothers were insane. It would be oddly romantic if it happened to someone else. Their unique brand of romance was why they had more ex-wives than she could count. It was the only reasonable explanation.
