This is a revenge story. Well, that’s my intention, anyway . . .
I, Oakley Durant, am nobody’s fool, at least not once I’ve seen photographic evidence. If my smug-faced, lying boyfriend thinks he can gaslight me out of believing that I saw who and what I saw on his phone, he’s got a wake-up call coming in hot. I recognize her and the cross-eyed squirrel on her shoulder—which should definitely have left her with more than a few RAGRETS!
But we’re at his company picnic, and I am ...
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This is a revenge story. Well, that’s my intention, anyway . . .
I, Oakley Durant, am nobody’s fool, at least not once I’ve seen photographic evidence. If my smug-faced, lying boyfriend thinks he can gaslight me out of believing that I saw who and what I saw on his phone, he’s got a wake-up call coming in hot. I recognize her and the cross-eyed squirrel on her shoulder—which should definitely have left her with more than a few RAGRETS!
But we’re at his company picnic, and I am not going to make a spectacle of myself. I’m going to have one more free margarita, and then I’m going to get the hell out of here.
This is rock-solid plan . . . until the owner of the company, Hollis Nyx, former NFL player/current Daddy Thick Thighs (ugh, don’t ask, and please do not encourage my use of this nickname – it could only end embarrassingly for me), raises his beer at me and smiles. It would be rude not to say hello and introduce myself.
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