My Ex Takes Me Home… to Fix His Appliances? Chapter 1

On the day I reunite with my ex-boyfriend, Zachary Carter, I'm in my electrician's uniform, arguing with a client.

"I'm not leaving until you pay me, you pervert! You asked for an attractive woman to come over to your house, and now you're refusing to pay? Let's see what will happen when your wife gets home!" I yell.

The door slams shut with a loud bang, and several bills are thrown onto the floor.

As I crouch down to pick up the money, Zachary stands before me holding the keys to his Porsche.

"You'd rather scam people and risk getting beaten to death than come back to me to ask for help?" he asked.

Behind me, the client is still screaming at me.

"You're crazy! I paid for an attractive woman to come over—not for an attractive woman to come over and fix my wiring!"

* * *

I tugged at my electrician's uniform and put away my voltage tester. "Would you rescue me if I was being beaten up?"

I wasn't going to get beaten up. I was an electrician.

Zachary Carter, my ex-boyfriend, didn't respond. We'd been broken up for a year now. He had no obligation to save me.

"Are you making a living by scamming people?" he asked.

Yes, I was. For the past month, I had been making money through posting suggestive ads.

Every day, I'd hand out flyers that advertised "house calls" by an attractive woman, with the word "repairs" printed in tiny letters beside the title. Whenever someone contacted me, I'd show up at their door.

Most people were terrified of causing a scene, so I could usually walk away with a few hundred dollars in less than ten minutes. It was risky, but it was a quick way to earn money.

I desperately needed money.

I gathered the cash from the ground and got to my feet. "There's no shame in trying to make a living."

Zachary's expression darkened. Without saying a word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the parking garage. His grip was so strong it felt as though he was going to crush my bones.

"Let go of me, Zachary! We're already broken up!" I shouted.

As I struggled against his hold, my tool bag dragged across the floor and made sharp, screeching noises.

When he shoved me into the passenger seat of his car, I was instantly surrounded by the scent of his expensive car freshener. It made me feel incredibly out of place.

"Give me your address," he demanded, his voice cold and even.

"That's none of your business."

He shot me a glance. Then, he stepped on the accelerator without another word. The car lurched forward, and a tense silence settled between us.

As the trees along the roadside flashed past my window, I remembered sitting in this exact seat one year ago.

In the past, I had smiled at him and said, "Let's break up. I've fallen in love with someone else. He's a lot richer than you are."

He had been just as silent back then, but he wasn't as calm as he currently was. When I broke the news to him, he was shocked and devastated.

In hindsight, the lie I had told him a year ago wasn't all that different from my misleading repair ads. Both were lies I told for the same reason—money.