Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(2)
Author: Emma Hart

But isn’t that exactly what he did with me? Didn’t he gloss over my teenage stupidity like it didn’t impact me at all?

Yes.

Oh, sigh.

Acceptance of the past is the key to facing the future. As long as I remember that, I’ll be okay. I think.

I hope.

I really, really fucking hope.

“It’s not bad,” I answer finally, slowly, tentatively drawing each word out. “I guess, in a fucked-up way, it’s kind of similar to Aaron keeping Naomi from you. You really shouldn’t have forgiven him, but you did. I really shouldn’t accept Tyler’s past this easily, but I have.”

Dayton’s lips tug up at the sides. “You know who forgives easily, don’t you?”

“A person in love,” I say in a cocky voice. “And again, there is a fundamental flaw in your plan, best friend.”

“Yeah, you’re not in love. I gotcha, Ms. In Denial.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not even going to argue with her. She’ll continue to tell me that I’m in denial and I’ll deny being in denial. It’ll be like the string cheese conversation all over again. Pointless bullshit.

“Whatever.” I set my empty glass on the table next to hers and refill them. “When I fall in love, I’ll be sure to send out a public service announcement so no one misses it.”

“You better.” She grins and her eyes sparkle. “When does Tyler come back?”

“Tomorrow sometime.” Somberness overshadows my amusement. We’d barely sealed our relationship with a kiss before he was offered a shoot in Boise. He drove out first thing this morning and that’s that.

I’m sitting here with an ache in my chest, waiting, just waiting, so we can actually finish our conversation. And I can maybe ask him why he slept with a student.

“And you’re already missing him,” Day states matter-of-factly.

“That wasn’t a question. I’m not obliged to respond.”

“Are you missing him?”

Shit. Asshole. “No.”

“Fucking liar.”

“Fine! Yes. I am. A little.” I lean my head back against the back of the sofa. “Okay, a lot. I’m missing him a lot.”

I rub my hand down my face as we both take in my admission.

“Like, shit. This isn’t normal. I should not be feeling like I have to pick up the phone and call him just to hear the sound of his voice and make this fucking irritating ache inside go away. I shouldn’t be feeling like I need to get in my own damn car and drive out to Boise to see him.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Voicing it just makes it worse. I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly.

“Wow. You really do have it bad, don’t you?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Conan Doyle? Your Sherlocks are multiplying at a sickening rate. They even come with tits and a vagina now,” I mutter, opening my eyes again.

Dayton laughs loudly, digging her toes into my shin. “Shut up, Liv. Look, you’re addicted to him, and you know it. It’s different now because you can manage it. Just breathe and try to think about what you’re feeling.”

My eyes flick to hers and I hit her with a harsh glare. “I’m sorry, Dr. Black. I wasn’t aware you were a fucking therapist.”

She smacks a cushion over my head. “For real, shut your face.” She drinks the rest of her wine and stands up. “Are you going to be okay if I leave you here?”

“Jesus Christ, I’m missing my boyfriend, not contemplating how hard my body would hit the ground if I jumped out of my window.”

“Don’t even joke about it.” She points a finger in my direction. “Don’t.”

Guilt twists my stomach. “Sorry. It’s bad, but if I joke about it, I can cope with it.”

“You ever feel like that, then you call me so I can drag you down these flights of stairs by your hair.” She slides her feet into her shoes and grabs her purse. “Oh, by the way, did you book the bachelorette party yet?”

I fight to stop my eyes from widening. “Yes,” I lie. “Almost.”

Dayton rolls her eyes and opens my door. “Book it, Liv. I get married in two months.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Family Woman.”

“Do you want me to Bridezilla your ass?”

“Honey, no one wants you to Bridezilla anything, but that doesn’t seem to stop you.”

She flips me the bird then follows it by blowing a kiss. “Goodbye. Love you. Be good.”

She shuts the door behind her before I can remind her that “be good” isn’t a phrase I understand. Unless it involves Tyler and his sexy demands—which are decidedly not classed as “good.” In fact, when I’m doing what he tells me to, I’m being both good and bad, which is quite the contradicting conundrum.

Shit. If I’m using big words, I’ve had far too much wine.

I glance at the bottle and decide that the remaining glass sitting in it won’t hurt me. I top my glass up to the rim and overfill it. Leaning forward, I slurp up a mouthful without moving the glass.

Classy chick, I am not.

I open the laptop and type in “bachelorette party venues.” Let it be noted that there’s no location on the end of the search. Aaron explicitly stated that I have no monetary budget for this. My only budget is her absolute happiness. This seems to be a goal we both share.

After sifting through several sites, which aren’t appealing in the slightest, I decide to tweak my search. I type in “West Coast spas” and hit enter. Dozens of websites come up, some classy, some casual, so I add “expensive” into the search bar.

Jesus. This is hard work already. Or maybe that’s the wine.

I filter through the search, clicking on endless websites before finally coming up with a short list. The clock blinks at me from the bottom corner of my screen, and despite it only being nine thirty, I can feel my eyelids growing heavy.

Yep, that’s definitely the wine.

I add all the ‘maybe’ venues into a folder on my bookmarks and shut the laptop down. Angus pads across the floor to me and stares at me woefully.

“I know, buddy. I know. The wine bottle is empty.”

His look turns annoyed. As annoyed as a cat can be, at least. In fact, I don’t think his expression has changed at all.

Maybe my cat just has perpetual resting bitch face.

With a sigh, I get up and put a couple handfuls of cat biscuits in his bowl. “I need to go to the store tomorrow, Lord Fussy-Ass!” I snap, dropping the box on the counter. Damn cat.