If I Could Do It Again by Ashley Stoyanoff Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ashley Stoyanoff
short. “I’m done.”
“Wait,” I say, hating the desperation I hear in my voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”
But he doesn’t respond. Instead, I hear the recording say, “The caller has hung up.”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I stare at it for a beat. I feel the sting of tears—damn tears—in my eyes, and my chest feels so unbelievably tight that it’s hard to breathe.
Oh my God. I don’t understand what just happened.
I sit in my chair, blinking fast and sniffling, staring at my phone. I don’t know how long I sit there, my eyes glued to the screen, hoping it’ll ring again. It’s probably been only five minutes, but it feels like hours.
Taking a deep breath, I set my phone aside and head into the bathroom washing my tears away. I take my time, slathering on some moisturizer and brushing my teeth, and after a few minutes, I’m starting to feel normal again. A little less shaky.
When I come out, Richard is standing there leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in his blue jeans. He’s smirking, his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and looking at him, at the knowing look in his eyes, I know he was eavesdropping.
My temper flares white-hot.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his smirk stretching, turning into a full-blown smile. “You get into a fight with your little convict?”
I glare at him, long and hard. “Don’t call him that,” I say sharply, enunciating every single syllable. “He has a name.”
Richard only laughs, and I spin around, walking back into my office, slamming the door behind me.
God, I hope he doesn’t stay long.
6
Best Sex Ever
It’s been a long day, mostly because I barely slept last night. My stupid brain kept replaying the conversation with Joshua over and over, trying to make sense out of it, but yeah, I couldn’t. Still can’t. We’re friends.
Just friends.
And friends don’t freak out when someone doesn’t answer the phone.
When I gave up on sleeping, I spent a few hours seriously considering shutting down the phone line, and cancelling my prepaid calling account. The problem with that, though, is that every time I think about not hearing his voice again, my heart feels like it’s cracking.
Then, I spent a few more hours trying to figure out what I did that was so horrible that he’d yell at me the way he had, wondering how I can fix it, and if he’ll even give me the chance to try.
Ugh.
Who am I kidding? We’re not just friends. We’re … well, I don’t know what we are, but
just friends
isn’t it.
The cold hard truth? I’m … attached and I don’t want it to be over, but the question remains: what is
it
?
It’s a little after two o’clock in the afternoon and I’m hiding in my office since Richard’s still home. I can hear him cursing from across the hall. The boat project must not be going well today. He hasn’t done his laundry or picked up his dry cleaning yet, so I assume he’s staying overnight, but he won’t tell me either way.
I should be working, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve been checking my phone constantly since I woke up this morning, making sure it’s on, checking if the ringer is turned up.
I’m agonizing, I know.
I don’t know what to do about the argument.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
I glare down at my phone again, because it hasn’t rung all day, not that I expect it to. After the way Joshua ended things last night, I won’t be surprised if I never hear from him again.
A shrill ring echoes through the room. My heart stops, and then races. I snatch up my phone, my heart stalling for a second before I glance at the caller display.
Please be him. Please be him. Please be him.
It’s him. Holy shit! It’s him. He’s calling.
My heart thunders in my chest, beating like a jackhammer as I answer it, impatiently waiting for the recording to end, for my chance to accept the call.
“How’s my beautiful angel doing?” Joshua says as soon as the line clicks through. He
“Wait,” I say, hating the desperation I hear in my voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”
But he doesn’t respond. Instead, I hear the recording say, “The caller has hung up.”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I stare at it for a beat. I feel the sting of tears—damn tears—in my eyes, and my chest feels so unbelievably tight that it’s hard to breathe.
Oh my God. I don’t understand what just happened.
I sit in my chair, blinking fast and sniffling, staring at my phone. I don’t know how long I sit there, my eyes glued to the screen, hoping it’ll ring again. It’s probably been only five minutes, but it feels like hours.
Taking a deep breath, I set my phone aside and head into the bathroom washing my tears away. I take my time, slathering on some moisturizer and brushing my teeth, and after a few minutes, I’m starting to feel normal again. A little less shaky.
When I come out, Richard is standing there leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in his blue jeans. He’s smirking, his shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and looking at him, at the knowing look in his eyes, I know he was eavesdropping.
My temper flares white-hot.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his smirk stretching, turning into a full-blown smile. “You get into a fight with your little convict?”
I glare at him, long and hard. “Don’t call him that,” I say sharply, enunciating every single syllable. “He has a name.”
Richard only laughs, and I spin around, walking back into my office, slamming the door behind me.
God, I hope he doesn’t stay long.
6
Best Sex Ever
It’s been a long day, mostly because I barely slept last night. My stupid brain kept replaying the conversation with Joshua over and over, trying to make sense out of it, but yeah, I couldn’t. Still can’t. We’re friends.
Just friends.
And friends don’t freak out when someone doesn’t answer the phone.
When I gave up on sleeping, I spent a few hours seriously considering shutting down the phone line, and cancelling my prepaid calling account. The problem with that, though, is that every time I think about not hearing his voice again, my heart feels like it’s cracking.
Then, I spent a few more hours trying to figure out what I did that was so horrible that he’d yell at me the way he had, wondering how I can fix it, and if he’ll even give me the chance to try.
Ugh.
Who am I kidding? We’re not just friends. We’re … well, I don’t know what we are, but
just friends
isn’t it.
The cold hard truth? I’m … attached and I don’t want it to be over, but the question remains: what is
it
?
It’s a little after two o’clock in the afternoon and I’m hiding in my office since Richard’s still home. I can hear him cursing from across the hall. The boat project must not be going well today. He hasn’t done his laundry or picked up his dry cleaning yet, so I assume he’s staying overnight, but he won’t tell me either way.
I should be working, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve been checking my phone constantly since I woke up this morning, making sure it’s on, checking if the ringer is turned up.
I’m agonizing, I know.
I don’t know what to do about the argument.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
I glare down at my phone again, because it hasn’t rung all day, not that I expect it to. After the way Joshua ended things last night, I won’t be surprised if I never hear from him again.
A shrill ring echoes through the room. My heart stops, and then races. I snatch up my phone, my heart stalling for a second before I glance at the caller display.
Please be him. Please be him. Please be him.
It’s him. Holy shit! It’s him. He’s calling.
My heart thunders in my chest, beating like a jackhammer as I answer it, impatiently waiting for the recording to end, for my chance to accept the call.
“How’s my beautiful angel doing?” Joshua says as soon as the line clicks through. He