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In a way it reminds me of when I was younger. When my little brain couldn’t even comprehend that the monsters in the world aren’t imaginary, they’re other human beings.
I try to hold on to this feeling for as long as I can, but it seems the harder I try to hold on to it the quicker it leaves me.
It’s completely gone by the time there’s a light knock on my bedroom door followed by my mom’s voice.
“Aubrey? Are you awake? Chase and Avery are here.”
My brain begins to wind up, and even though the gears aren’t fully spinning yet, I can sense the shitstorm waiting for me at the edge of my consciousness.
“Yeah… I’ll be down in a minute,” I grumble out and blink my eyes open.
I’m not ready to face the shitstorm yet.
“Okay, honey,” my mom says cheerfully.
I listen as her footsteps trail down the hall then reach out beside me, blindly grabbing my phone.
Out of habit, I check my messages, and instantly regret it.
The first text that pops up on my screen is from Tristan, telling me to text him as soon as I get in.
The fucking nerve of him…
I almost throw my phone across my room, but then my eyes land on the other messages.
There’s about a hundred texts from Ashley, all of them apologizing and begging me to forgive her.
Shit.
I don’t want to deal with this right now, but there it is.
Closing my eyes, I plop back on my pillow and squeeze my phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack in my fist.
So this is the game they want to play?
But to what end?
I can easily guess what Tristan wants. He’s made it clear he doesn’t expect his infidelity to change anything. He’s simply trying to maintain the status quo.
But what does Ashley get out of this?
I doubt she’s feeling guilty for what’s she’s done.
Maybe she’s simply saving face?
Even then…
My curiosity getting the better of me, I pull up my Instagram. If she made a public apology, I’ll be shocked shitless.
I only have to scroll two pictures down to see Tristan’s latest post.
It’s a fucking picture of the two of us together.
In the picture we’re snuggled close on a couch. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders and we’re both beaming for the camera. I’ve taken so many damn selfies with him, I can’t even remember when this one was taken.
Below the picture, he’s captioned: Missing my girl already. Hurry back home Bree baby. #futurewifey #lonelywithoutmybaby #missingyoucrazy #wakemewhensummerisover
I shouldn’t be surprised… I shouldn’t. But the sheer, arrogant audacity of it causes my blood to boil and I can’t think straight for a minute.
