Page 9 of Bookgasms

“Ugh.” I throw my hands in the air when he doesn’t say anything. “Fine. You win. What did Dani have to say?”

Victor spins around with a smug grin on his face. “I thought you’d last longer than that, but you’re oh so predictable, my love.”

I flip him the bird. “What the fuck ever. Are you going to tell me or not?”

“She asked me to tell you hello, and that she adored your last book. She was trying to weasel details about your current one out of me, but I told her she’d have to ask you. She also said she already texted you two days ago, but hasn’t heard back.”

“What? No way! I would’ve immediately answered her.” I reach for my pocket to grab my phone before realizing it’s not there. Frowning, I glance around to see if it’s somewhere in the kitchen, but it’s clear pretty quickly it’s not.

Victor throws his head back as his laughter fills the room. “You have no idea where it is, do you? When was the last time you remember seeing it?”

I think back, and I’m ashamed to admit, I have no idea.

“Well, I remember putting it on the charger for you a few days ago. Why don’t you go see if it’s still there?”

I take off running toward our bedroom, and sure enough, there’s my phone sitting on the charger. As soon as I unlock the screen, I see about ten texts from Dani and a few from Victor. There are a few voicemails as well, and I frown.

Damn it.

I really am the worst when I’m writing a book.

JASON

I’m so fucking sorry.

I don’t even know the last time I looked at my phone.

DANI

That must mean the book is going well.

Don’t worry, I forgive you. Plus, Victor said as much.

I want all the deets ASAP.

JASON

You know I’ll tell you anything you want.

Let’s have dinner soon?

DANI

Done. I’m hanging out with Maya tonight, and I have plans with Gary next Wednesday.

Besides schoolwork, I’m wide open. Let me know when you finish the book, and we’ll plan something.

I drop the phone into my pocket and trudge back to the kitchen, where Victor is plating our steaks, mushrooms, and sweet potatoes.

He grins when he glances up at me. “Text her back?”

“Shut up. You know I did.”

He sets the plates on the island counter before moving to the fridge to grab us drinks. I climb onto one of the stools, practically drooling over the food. My husband is an amazing cook, which is good since I burn water.

“That’s not all she wanted, though,” he tells me as he settles onto the stool beside me.

He cuts into his steak, taking a bite, and leaving me hanging.