by Monroe, Max
The proof lay in the fact that I’d given him my heart and he’d handed it back to me, bloodied, broken, and battered beyond recognition.
* * *
Episode 22: “I don’t know what the future holds.”
Did you guys know, so far, I’ve published nearly fourteen hours’ worth of me pouring my heart out to you?
Fourteen hours of romance, sarcasm, pithy remarks, and calamity.
Oh, and probably ten too many f-bombs, too.
I’m sure it was entertaining for you, but fourteen hours is a lot when you’re the one who’s already lived it.
[sighs]
When I started recording this podcast a few weeks ago, I was fresh off one of the hardest heartbreaks I’ve ever experienced.
Ollie, quite literally, wrecked me.
Our big blowup at dinner with his sister was the last time I saw him, and a part of me still isn’t convinced that’s a good thing.
Because there are unspoken words left to say, untold truths left to admit and, likely, a whole lot of unrealized agony to suffer when I finally close the book on him.
[deep exhale]
But I hardly think seeing him in person now is the way to go. It maybe could be, if I were a stronger woman, one with a harder heart and less chips in her veneer.
So, for now, I’ve been focusing on other, equally important things.
My best friend, for example.
I eventually talked to Allie and let her know what was going on.
She was pretty shocked by all of it, and even a little hurt that I hadn’t told her the truth from the start.
I can’t really blame her.
But trust me, there is no easy way to explain to your best friend that you slept with her brother, and in the process, went ahead and fell in love with him too.
[laughs]
Talk about a debacle.
Thankfully, I think once I explained it all to her, she understood. That’s what best friends do, especially ride or die, bury that shit in the backyard instead of calling the cops, in it until the end kind of gals.
I’m glad our relationship is on the mend, really, I am, but it hasn’t been all roses. Along with reliability, the best of friends are known for one other thing: being pains in the ass. And my Aussie, blond, foul-mouthed version is no different.
Allie really wants me to talk to Ollie.
But I just…can’t face him yet.
My heart is too sad. The wounds too raw. And the cruel words he said still play over and over inside my head like a broken record.
When I left the restaurant that night, I needed to get it all out somehow, but what happened between us felt too damn big to put into a regular Dear Ex-Boyfriend letter.
And so, this podcast was born.
Hell, I don’t even know if I can consider him my ex-boyfriend.
I mean, we were never official, but yet, somehow, someway, he meant more than any other man in my life ever has.
We only made love once, but the feel of him still lingers in my bones.
[pauses]
I’ll be leaving for France next month, and after that, I’ll be on to Portugal and Hawaii as I finish up the last events of the surfing competition.
And yes, as far as I know, Ollie will be there.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, but maybe, when I get back in November, I’ll do another series of podcasts and let you know. Hopefully, by that point, I’ll have found the closure I need.
[laughs manically]
Or maybe, I shouldn’t even bother.
I mean, what good could you guys get out of a podcast that doesn’t include some kind of happy ending?
Because I can’t promise you one.
I can’t sit here and pretend everything will get sorted, and we’ll ride off in some fucking pumpkin carriage like the prince and princess of the podcast world.
We probably won’t. At least, it isn’t looking too probable from where I’m sitting.
But I guess we’ll see. Life’s supposed to be some big mystery anyway, right?
[laughs]
Anyway, for my final podcast, I’m going to stick to what I know.
And I know that if I don’t get this out, it’s going to eat me alive.
So, here it is. One last Ex-Boyfriend slash Ex-Lover slash Ex-Jerk letter to wash all the past away.
And this one, friends…
This one is to Ollie.
[deep breath]
Dear Ollie,
I know I’m bad at love, but you know what?
I think you’re bad at love too.
You’re childish and egocentric and self-serving, and to be honest, I think women have always come too easily for you.
I believe pride of ownership—care of something—is directly related to the work you put into getting it.
I take great pains in my job because I scrapped and struggled to get it. I may not save lives or impact the greater good, but it means something to me, and as a result, I nourish it.
For you, it’s the waves. Not the job or the company or the fame—I know that now—but the waves that garner your respect.
You work hard to assure the competitions are judged fairly, and you work even harder to bring a sport that brings you so much joy to people like you.
Even I can see that, and I’m not really in the mood to focus on the positives.
But what we both bring in spades to those areas of our lives, we neglect to even consider in our personal lives.
You accused me of being incapable of falling for someone, but I think it’s who I fall for, and the way I respect it, that’s the problem.
Case in point: I fell for you. Hard.
You…the guy who insulted me at first glance and taunted me from that moment on.
You…the guy who had the attention of many and weren’t looking for the attention of one.
You…the guy who has enough commitment and isn’t looking for more.
I know we can’t choose who to love, but from this point forward, I think it’s best that we both try.
I need to find the guy who can give me everything, and you need the girl who doesn’t need much.
[audible sigh]
You should have been honest with me about Amelia—about everything—but I don’t even think that’s really the biggest issue here anymore.
Sure, it was a catalyst for our demise, but in truth, it was situational at best.
Because you and I aren’t meant to be.
We both made mistakes, but we made them because they’re ingrained in us.
We made them because we’re not a match.
We made them because love doesn’t conquer all.
I know I’m probably still not handling it the best, but you hurt me, Ollie.
You broke my heart, with your actions and your words, but just like always…I’m the only person left to put myself back together.
I miss you. And I probably always will.
But those are my crosses to bear, and I’ll eventually find closure with it all.
One day, I’ll be able to wake up without you being the first thought in my mind. And if you’re even at all worried about it…one day, you’ll be able to wake up without thinking of me too.
Love,
Little Fire
[inhales a shaky breath]
I love you guys.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for your kind messages.
Thank you for caring.
Thank you for everything.
And who knows, maybe you’ll hear from me again in a few months…
THE END?
NOT EVEN CLOSE…
Surely, you’re ready for the rest of Lucky and Ollie’s story!
Don’t worry, the conclusion of their story releases on October 25th.
And this time, you get to hear Ollie’s side of things.
Prepare yourselves, things about to get real swoony, Aussie-style.
Grab THE DAY THE JERK STARTED FALLING today!
/>
And keep reading for an exclusive sneak peak into Ollie’s mind!
2018 has been the start of ALL THE FUN THINGS.
Find out why everyone is laughing their ass off every Monday morning with us.
Max Monroe’s Monday Morning Distraction.
It’s hilarity and entertainment in newsletter form.
Trust us, you don’t want to miss it.
Stay up-to-date with our characters, us, and get your own copy of Monday Morning Distraction by signing up for our newsletter
You may live to regret much, but we promise it won’t be this.
If you’re already signed up, consider sending us a message to tell us how much you love us. We really like that. ;)
Follow us online:
Website
Facebook
Reader Group
Twitter
Instagram
Goodreads
Bookbub
Amazon
The Day the Jerk Started Falling Excerpt
* * *
Podcast Series: The Day the Jerk Started Falling with Oliver Arsen
Dating is easy, mates. The women are plentiful, the opportunities abundant, and the fun endless.
I’ve taken a woman night surfing—only to end up using the board and the motion of the water for another purpose—jetted over to New Zealand for a two-day holiday with another, and given more than one a fair tour of the inside of my bedroom.
No effort overspent, I enjoyed every moment of it.
I live hard and love harder, but it’s the second one that usually gets me in the most trouble. My affection tends to be short-lived—a quality I’ve been assured multiple times by the fairer sex isn’t becoming.
Basically, according to the greater population, I’m the ultimate jerk.
And if you grouped the lot of my past conquests together and set me ablaze, not one of them would piss on me to save my life.
Taking the next step, having a long-term relationship, has never been my forte.
Commitment is hard. The thought of a one-woman wank for the rest of my life has barely ever been conceivable, let alone possible, and I have to blame that for how badly it all went.
When I look back at my behavior, there has to be a reason.
A reason, friends, that when it came to Luciana Wright, I fucked it all up.
I’ve been cursed out, stomped on, slapped. Had my balls volleyed, spat on, and punched. And even, on one occasion, nearly run over by a car with a madwoman behind the wheel.
But I’ve never been through the brutal torture of love.
Until Lucky.
She’s an American bombshell and my sister’s best friend—a woman so wrong for
me, it should be written in the waves.
And she’s the reason we’re all here.
The exact reason why I strong-armed the lovely, albeit slightly hard-ass, editor of this fantastic website to let an Aussie bloke like me prattle on about his love woes.
[chuckles]
Vanessa, if you’re listening. I’m certain your balls are bigger than just about every bloke out there. And trust me, that is a compliment.
[chuckles again]
Also, thank you for your hospitality via podcast permission. It is much appreciated.
And you, dear listeners, you should know that for the next God only knows how many episodes of this podcast series, I’m going to spend my time talking directly to Lucky. If you’re not her, but you’d like to keep listening, I urge you to help me. Help me by hearing me out. Help me by relating to my story. Help me plead my case. And to really prepare yourself to get the whole tale from both sides, listen to her podcast first.
[distinct pause]
I had you in my grasp, Lucky, but now it’s fallen apart.
And in order to explain how it happened—to explain myself—I feel like I have to go back to the day it all began.
To the day the jerk started falling.
* * *
First of all, THANK YOU for reading. That goes for anyone who’s bought a copy, read an ARC, helped us beta, edited, or found time in their busy schedule to help us out in any way.
Thank you for supporting us, for talking about our books, and for just being so unbelievably loving and supportive of our characters. You’ve made this our MOST favorite adventure thus far.
THANK YOU to Basil and Banana.
THANK YOU to our amazing readers.
THANK YOU to all of you awesome and supportive bloggers.
THANK YOU to our editor, Lisa.
THANK YOU to our agent, Amy.
THANK YOU to our beautiful formatter with beautiful formats, Stacey.
THANK YOU to Jenn and Sarah and everyone else at Social Butterfly PR.
THANK YOU to our Camp Love Yourself Members.
THANK YOU to Neely Steinburg at Huffington Post for the added inspiration for Lucky’s Dear Ex-boyfriend letters. We loved your Thank You, Ex-boyfriend article.
And last, but certainly not least, THANK YOU to our family.
Max: Wow. We kept this one short and sweet!
Monroe: That’s probably because you’re, like, ready to deliver any day now and we still have one more book to write before Baby Thatch is here!
Max: [groans] Stop calling my baby that.
Monroe: Fine. Baby Max Monroe.
Max: No.
Monroe: Baby Ollie?
Max: No.
Monroe: Baby…Kline? Wes? Quinn? Cam? Se—?
Max: Stop trying to name my baby after one of our characters.
Monroe: Fine. Fine. But you have to admit, Baby Oliver has a nice ring to it…
Max: Not happening. No matter how much I love that charming bastard.
Monroe: So…now what?
Max: I guess we should probably get back to work…
Monroe: Yeah. Probably.
Max: Lunch first?
Monroe: Does the baby like chips and cheese dip?
Max: Um…hello? This is my baby we’re talking about here. Of course he like chips and cheese dip.
Monroe: Food first, then we write.
Max: Deal.
Thank you to everyone we love and adore!
Our readers, our bloggers, our fellow authors, our entire team, just everyone!
We love you tons and tons and tons!
Thank you for letting us do what we love every single day.
XOXO,
Max Monroe