Page 163 of Blessed


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"Not in a million fucking years."

"I’m urging you to think carefully about what you're saying. Work for me, and I'll destroy the photos; Abby will be spared the humiliation of that kind of exposure. But toss my offer, and I'll upload every picture I have across Facebook faster than Abby will know what to do with it."

Fuck. Why is this happening right now?

"The question you need to ask yourself is, would you like to see pictures of your girlfriend splashed across the internet for the world to jerk off to?" Grady asks me.

When I opened my door today, I never could've guessed I'd be faced with a dilemma that'd knock the wind out of me.

Only one thing to do in this situation to set things right.

What is it?

You’re not going to like the answer, darlin’.

No, I’m not going to tell you.

Not now.

Time for you to switch fucking POV.

Abby

It’s seven pm, and there's still no sign of Aidan.

I try to call him for the fifth time now, but the phone just rings endlessly without him picking up. I’m starting to get worried, and all this pacing around the apartment isn’t helping matters.

We agreed yesterday that he’d come over to my place today, so that we could start writing our new novel, a follow up to Big Dick. That’s right, the wonder team has teamed up again.

I had a busy afternoon and Aidan was doing his thing but I’m home now and ready to work.

Besides, it’s not like Aidan and me to not communicate for this long.

We already have an outline ready to go, and now it’s all a matter of putting the words down. Except Aidan was supposed to be here two hours ago, but it seems like he vanished from the face of the Earth. I tried to reach CJ, but she isn’t picking up her cellphone either.

I walk over to the kitchen counter, and place the cork back on the bottle of red wine I had opened for today. I picked it out especially for Aidan—one of his favorites. You know, this was supposed to be a special occasion; we're going to start a new project ... and I decided to tell him I’m pregnant. That’s why I tidied up the whole apartment, cooked diner, and even bought expensive La Perla, a matching lace thong and bra that hug the curves of my body as if they were my second skin.

But it seems like Aidan won’t be showing up at all.

I place the

bottle back on the shelf with a sigh—well it’s not like I could have had wine anyways—and grab the tray of now cold lasagna. I tuck it inside the oven, ready for reheating whenever (if) he gets here, and then make my way back to the living room.

I try to reach him one more time, but all I get is that annoying ringing sound. Why isn’t he picking up? Maybe I should call Cheryl; she’s always in touch with CJ, so she’ll probably know if something’s up.

"What’s up?" she asks me straightway, picking up the phone before it even starts to ring. Swear to God, sometimes Cheryl freaks me out; it’s like she always knows when I need her.

"Hey, babe, have you talked with CJ?"

"Not today, why? Something’s up?" she says, and I can tell by the way she’s breathing her words out that she’s typing on her laptop while talking to me, her cell phone pressed between her shoulder and ear.

"Well, uh, we were supposed to start writing today, but Aidan isn’t picking up his cell," I tell her, trying to hide away all the worry and anxiety tying my stomach into knots. Something’s going on, I can feel it deep in my bones.

"He’s probably just running late or something," she says in a distracted tone, and so I just agree with her, trying to tell myself that there’s nothing to worry about. "Are you going to tell him about the baby?" she asks, her tone of voice growing steady, and I imagine her sitting upright in front of her desk, her cell phone now back in her hand. "You should tell him, you know?"

"That’s the plan," I chuckle, although I can’t shake off that dark feeling casting its shadow over every single one of my thoughts. "As soon as he gets here, I’m going to break the news to him."

"Now that’s my Abby," Cheryl laughs, and then she’s back to her distracted tone of voice. I can hear the faint sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard, so I just say my goodbyes and let her do her work.

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