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Chapter Twelve
Something was drastically wrong. Tyler stared at the bedroom door Sienna had practically slammed in his face. She’d hardly spoken to him tonight. Maybe she was in pain and refused to admit it. Maybe she felt neglected since he’d been so busy setting up the Christmas tree with Dalia. Or maybe the last few days after her surgery had taken a toll of their own.
He sighed. Regardless, it was time he vacated Dalia’s room. She and her mother needed space. He gathered his belongings. In the living room, he admired the colorful Christmas tree he’d decorated following Dalia’s orders, and then he turned to Sienna’s bedroom door, carefully listening for any sound. Nothing.
Reassured that she wasn’t crying or moaning in pain, he carried his gear to the door, quietly opened it, and left. With a heavy heart, he drove to his new apartment, pondering her frustrating attitude. He’d expected her and Dalia to walk him to the door, hug him, wish him good luck in his new place, and invite him to visit soon. That pleasant scene faded, replaced by the actual one—Sienna pulling her daughter to the room with a briefI’m tired, goodnight and good luck.
He parked in his assigned place in the underground garage, grabbed a cart to move the stuff he’d left in the trunk of his car all week, and rode the elevator to the fifth floor, hoping the new place would help him relax.
Unpacking his computer, toiletries, and hanging his suits and shirts didn’t take any time. He set his alcoholic beverages on the bar separating the kitchen from the dining area, and finally emptied the rest of his luggage, folding his clothes and placing them on the shelves and in the drawers of the modern closet.
After twenty-four hours in the same clothes, garments he’d slept in last night, he indulged in a long shower, humming as the hot water sluiced over his knotted muscles, soothing them.
Once he dried off with one of the new towels, he dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt. His wet hair falling on his forehead, he poured himself a glass of scotch and offered a toast to a happy life in his new apartment.
But toasting alone was no fun. He reached for his phone to call Sienna, and reconsidered. What if she’d fallen asleep? At nine o’clock? It was doubtful, but to be on the safe side, he would text her.
He tapped his text icon and frowned at a string of strange messages.
He started reading, his drink clasped in his hand. Damn it! What was the meaning of these weird messages?
Don’t worry about me, babe. I’m in good hands. Bev is taking care of me.
He scoffed. Since when had Beverly taken care of him?
Sienna had worried about him, asking,Where are you?
At my apartment with Bev. We needed to clear the air. And we did.
Probably pondering the previous text, Sienna hadn’t responded.
Everything is back to normal, as it was a week ago. Bev is giving me a gentle and energetic massage, exactly what I need after the long hospital hours.
Damn it, he’d never written this garbage!
Don’t wait for me tonight.
He chugged the rest of his drink and set down the glass before he crushed it.
No wonder Sienna was upset. Yet she’d been gracious enough to offer him dinner and let him decorate the Christmas tree with her daughter. Any other woman would have thrown him out on his ear the minute he’d arrived.
He hadn’t sent these messages, but he knew who had. Beverly. He could call and confront her about it, but to what end?
“Good riddance,” he muttered.
Bev had exacted her revenge for the breakup and his refusal to apologize. She’d gone off with Anthony, a doctor with higher status than Dr. Kent’s. Knowing her, he wouldn’t hear from her again until, out of spite, she sent him an invitation to their wedding.
He needed to concentrate on his sweet Sienna who must’ve spent a lousy time last night cursing him. There was no need to text or call now. She would probably ignore him.
He shoved his phone and keys in his pocket and slipped on his parka and boots. Without waiting for the elevator, he ran down the six flights to the garage, got into his car, drove to her place, and parked in the driveway.
Standing in front of the door, he dug out his phone and called.
“Hello?”
“Sienna, open the door. I’m outside.”
“What happened?” Concern filled her voice.
