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“Let me look.” I quickly climb from the couch, setting my wine glass on the table as I head to the kitchen, where I left my planner on the counter. Because yes, I still use a paper planner. I’m old school like that. Grabbing the book, I head back to the couch.
Flipping it open in my lap, I look over my schedule for the upcoming week.
“I have an open house scheduled for Thursday and Sunday, but nothing else yet. With the market the way that it is, these days I’m doing same day showings so I don’t have any scheduled that far ahead. I can ask my dad to fill in for me on Friday evening and Saturday in case anything comes through.”
“You think he’d do it?”
“I know he will.”
“Eeeekkkk.” She squeals into the phone. “Then it’s settled. You work it out with your dad, I’ll figure things out on my end, and text you the details once I have my flight booked.”
“Bon…” Emotion clogs my throat.
Not everyone would just drop everything to be with their friend because they slept with some asshole. But Bonnie… She’s one of a kind.
“I know,” she stops me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll text you later.”
“Okay.” I smile, ignoring the twinge of sadness and anger that still weighs heavier than it should on my chest.
Seconds later the line goes dead.
Reaching for my wine glass, I hesitate when my phone signals a text message.
“Bonnie.” I shake my head, betting money she’s sent me some meme with a penis drawn on Treyton’s face or something.
Only when I tap on the screen, it isn’t Bonnie’s name I see.
Treyton…
I don’t have message preview enabled on my phone so I can’t see what the message says, only that it’s from him.
I hesitate, trying to convince myself to ignore it.
Unfortunately, curiosity wins out, and I find myself clicking on the message box.
Treyton:Did you make it home okay?
Is he fucking serious right now?
Locking my phone, I chuck it to the opposite end of the couch.
If he thinks I’m going to message him back after the way he abandoned me, he has another thing coming.
Reaching for my wine, I chug the contents and then quickly move to refill it.
Fucking Treyton Tyler…
“Thank you so much for squeezing us in today.” Mr. Bates takes my hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it. “We’ll discuss everything and get back to you before the end of the day.”
“I’m just glad you were able to see it before it was too late. I suspect this one won’t last more than a few hours,” I tell him, referring to a listing that just went live this morning. It’s being handled by another agent, but I was able to get him and his daughter in between her already scheduled showings.
After promising to be in touch, the older man and his adult daughter exit the home, leaving me behind to lock up before the listing agent comes back with her next showing.
Making my way to my car, I wait until I’m sitting in the driver’s seat before pulling my phone out of my purse, needing to check in with my father and make sure that we’re still on for lunch today. When I called him to ask about covering for me this weekend, he said we would discuss it over a meal. Which usually means he has more he wants to talk about.
