Page 78
“My bed broke.”
Monica heaved a sigh and left for the kitchen, returning the knife to the butcher block. “What I would give to have those problems. I’ve been on a dry spell lately.”
I palmed her forehead and laughed when she swatted me.
“How are things with your sugar daddy?”
I didn’t answer immediately because what could I say? That I was already falling for him?
“Stop looking like that,” she demanded.
“Stop looking like what?” I asked dumbly.
“Like you’ve already fallen for him.” She groaned when my facial expression didn’t change. “Vera, what I’m about to say is only coming from a place of love.”
I nodded, knowing she was about to give me a reality check I didn’t ask for. Was I falling for Hart? Without a doubt. Would it suck if our situationship never progressed? Sure. However, I was no stranger to taking risks and getting my heart broken. I loved Monica with all my heart, but respectfully, she was wasting her fucking time.
“I expect nothing else,” I replied, urging her to continue.
“I think you’re getting caught up in this whirlwind arrangement, and you’re forgetting that this wasn’t meant to last forever. It’s been what? Three weeks, if that?”
“That sounds accurate.”
She sighed and dropped her hands on her hips.
“What if he’s love-bombing you?”
“Hart’s not love-bombing me!”
Our mouths dropped when we realized my blunder.
Shit. I just outted Hart.
The Love Bomber
Vera
“Did you just say Hart? As in Hart Myers from the Washington Warriors?”
“Forget I said that,” I groaned.
Monica shook her satin bonnet-covered head.
“There’s no way in hell I’m forgetting that only a few moments ago you were getting cracked by Hart Myers. You know what? Forget everything I just told you; let that man love you.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator, then moved to the pantry, where I found a pack of chocolate chip cookies.
“The way you switch up should be a case study.”
“No, no, no, but think about it for a moment. Do you know how life-changing your game is that you locked down a man infamously known as ‘Hartbreak’?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Goodnight,” I said, leaving the kitchen.
“Don’t walk away from me,” she hissed. I laughed when she cursed after I closed the door in her face.
I was relieved to find that Hart had propped the broken bed frame against one wall, leaving the mattress and box spring on the floor and the headboard still butted against the wall.
The shower was still running, and I was tempted to take Hart up on his offer and join him, but it was past three in the morning, and I’d never make it to sleep.
