I don’t even need a full month. If I can convince Ari to walk away and stop fucking with my life, the phone will be tossed by the end of tonight, and I can forget this fucked up day happened.
The clerk is quick about setting up the phone for me, showing me the different features that I don’t care about, and I’m walking out the door within twenty minutes.
Once back in my car, I transfer Ari’s number into the new phone and fire off my first text.
What will it take for me to convince you to leave me alone and stop toying with my fucking life?
Straight. To the point. And if the asshole doesn’t figure out it’s me by the cryptic message, he’s an idiot. Unless, of course, mine isn’t the only marriage Ari is trying to destroy.
Still, for plausible deniability, I won’t include my name until he answers and admits he knows exactly who I am.
Almost immediately, little bubbles spring up to show he’s responding. They stop though. Spring up again. Stop. Over and over, until I’m about to scream. I’m expecting a paragraph for how long it goes on, but when the text finally comes through, all I get is:
Ari: I believe identifying yourself is what most people consider polite these days.
Asshole.
You know who this is. How do I get rid of you?
I can imagine him laughing wherever he is, those seductive grey eyes glimmering with pure evil. That cruel mouth tugging up at the corners with every promise of making my life Hell.
Ari: Let’s pretend I do know who this is. Why in the world would you want to get rid of me? I seem to remember you enjoying our time together very much, even if it was cut short when you ran away.
The hard part is he’s right. Although I will never admit that to him, I can’t deny the way my body responds to him. Every night, I’ve dreamed about what went on in that mausoleum, and even today at lunch I struggled to not stare at him, my body reacting with the memory of what his hands feel like, his tongue...his teeth.
But it doesn’t matter if I’m drawn to him. I’m a married woman. It might not be the perfect marriage, but it’s what I need. After getting burned so many times when I was younger, I learned that my choices and decisions aren’t always what is best for me.
I didn’t enjoy anything. Which is why I never want to see you again.
He answers within seconds.
Ari: Well, in that case, you’re not who I think you are. I mistook you for a woman who left my hand a sticky mess after she came all over it. So, either tell me your name, or send me a nice picture so I can know who I’m talking to.
A growl crawls up my throat. What is it with guys and pictures? And why does he keep slapping me down by mentioning how he made me feel?
I wouldn’t send you a picture, even if I could, which I can’t, because my phone plan doesn’t allow it.
More little bubbles bounce, the message coming through so direct with accusation that I drop the phone in my lap and scrub my hands over my face.
Ari: Burner phone. Very smart, Adeline. It’s almost like you know what you’re doing. I assume you’ve had plenty of experience running around behind other people’s backs. Which only means the game has just changed.
Tears sting my eyes, my frustration so bone deep that it hurts to move, to stay still. My muscles are locked in my shoulders and neck, my head pounding with each pulse of my heart.
I snatch the phone from my lap and tap out a message in all caps.
WHAT GAME?! AND CHANGED HOW?
Lifting my head to look out through the windshield, I lock eyes with the sales clerk inside the store. He winks. Gives me a thumbs up. Completely enjoying the moment while I can’t stop thinking that my marriage is as good as gone.
The phone pings, the message dragging a razor down my spine for how horrible Ari’s response is.
Ari: Before you admitted to knowing how to hide your tracks, I was going to go easy on you. But now that I see you’re just as devious as me, I’ve decided to raise the stakes. Meet me tonight, and we’ll talk about your unfortunate issue. Otherwise, you can expect to see a lot of me in the