The Make Out Artist (Accidentally in Love #3) Read Online Sara Ney

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Accidentally in Love Series by Sara Ney
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
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True. The man did nothing wrong except. “She’s not some random woman. She’s his ex-girlfriend.”

Posey snorts. “Exactly. His ex-girlfriend—she wasn’t his fiancée, and she wasn’t his wife. They lived together what, a few years?”

“I’m not sure. It’s not something we’ve talked about.”

“I can’t imagine what’s going on in his apartment right now.” Posey is warming up a hearty slice of brie before spooning raspberry jam on the top. “If she’s as horrible as you say she is, and he’s trapped there with her. Yikes.”

“Shit. Now I feel bad. I just walked out on him.”

Posey pats me on the arm. “You did the right thing—what any self-respecting woman would do. I mean, it’s not like you were going to get involved in the conversation. You’ve been on two dates.”

True.

So true.

“Should I call him?” I sigh, shoulders sagging, the warm pastry hitting my tongue.

“Hell no!” Posey shakes her head. “Let him come crawling to you.”

“But what if…he doesn’t?” Why does my voice sound so meek and sorrowful?

Because I feel as if I’ve already lost.

And Laura has won.

Eli and I were only at the start of what could have been something wonderful, and now it’s ruined.

Tainted.

Posey gives an eye roll so hard it’s uncharacteristic of her. She never rolls her eyes or has a bad thing to say about anyone. “He will.”

“So what happens if it’s his baby?”

“I don’t know. I guess time will tell. It would certainly change things, you know?”

I know.

He already works a lot, and his life is crazy hectic. Add on a layer where he has a newborn baby and a controlling ex-girlfriend?

Where does that leave time for me?

I don’t want to be selfish, but the one date we went on was addicting—creative and spontaneous and fun—and it left me wanting to know more about him.

And don’t get me started on the sex.

Eli loves oral.

I love oral.

It’s a match made in orgasm heaven.

I jam the Danish in my mouth, finishing the last piece but not really tasting any of it. All I taste is sadness and sorrow for a relationship that could have been but probably never will be.

It doesn’t take Eli long to get in touch. First, he tries to call, but I was in the shower and unavailable to chat. Then he tried to video chat, but I was in the laundry room starting a new load.

He leaves me alone for a few days, his attempts going unanswered, and yes, I feel a certain level of guilt for ignoring him, but the truth is, I still haven’t figured out my shit.

It’s so bizarre that his ex-girlfriend just waltzed into his place, brazen as you please—WITH A KEY—and announced IN HIS HOME that he may be the father of her child.

With me sitting there on the couch in nothing but a tee shirt.

Laura had no shame, gave zero fucks, and barely tossed a glance my way.

I can’t imagine what being in a relationship with Eli would be like, with her as the mother of his child dictating how he and I lived our lives.

Messy as all hell.

Talk about dodging a bullet…

The longer I put off talking to him about the situation, the angrier I get, lost in my own future tripping about how doomed we already are.

DOOMED.

And here I’d packed away all my red flags—too soon, apparently.

Eli: I was hoping we could talk.

Of course he’s hoping we could talk, no doubt to smooth my ruffled feathers. Or to dump me, even though we’re not officially a couple.

One date, a few blow jobs, and sex does not a relationship make.

I can’t think of anything upbeat to say. No reply in the world can mask the confusion I’m feeling or the disappointment.

Me: Sure—of course.

Eli: Want to meet somewhere?

No, not really. Not at all. I look like shit, and I’m in a foul mood—crabby, sad, angry. If he wants to subject himself to that, by all means. But do I want to subject myself to him? That’s the real question.

Me: Maybe we can just talk on the phone. How does that work?

The chat bubble appears and reappears several times before his message comes through.

Eli: If that’s what you’re comfortable with, please. I’d like to talk to you on the phone.

And I’d like to crawl under the covers and pretend this never happened, but the last time I checked, I was an adult and not a teenager in love with Dan Brewer, who showed up at the prom with Tiff Sadler, his ex-girlfriend. Turns out as soon as she found out he had asked me, she began a campaign to get him back, and the little shit didn’t have the balls to tell me to my face.

Instead, he let me buy a dress, and shoes, and new makeup and have my hair done and wait and wait for him to show up at my house.



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