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“I was thinking more about whether I should text him back, to tell him to fuck off or something like that?” I suggest to the group.
“Absolutely not,” Tiggy wrinkles her nose. Fiona smirks at her.
“Of course the social worker is thinking of de-escalating the situation,” she snorts. Tiggy rolls her eyes at her.
“Poking the bear isn’t smart. Ignoring is the best option.”
“I agree,” Lauren chimes in. “We can think of something that doesn’t involve engaging with him.”
“How are we gonna get him to back the fuck off without engaging?” Fiona scoffs. I’m with her. That doesn’t seem like sound logic.
“I don’t think texting him is a good idea,” Mellie says thoughtfully, holding up her hand when Fiona opens her mouth to argue. “What if it opens the floodgates for more messages from him? If he’s sending all this stuffwithoutinteraction, imagine what he would send if he knew she was seeing it?”
Fiona pouts, straightening her shoulders as an evil grin crosses her face.
“I say you give us his number. We all text him. Spam the fucker.”
“And saywhat?” Mellie snorts. Fiona’s grin grows.
“Hate mail.” She launches into a litany of things we should all send. The girl getsverygraphic in her details of what we should say would happen to him if he doesn’t stop contacting me.
Tiggy looks faintly sick by the end of Fiona’s rant, her hand resting on her extremely pregnant stomach.
“Maybe not,” she says rather faintly.
Fiona grimaces, chuckling awkwardly. “Oops. Sorry, Tiggy. I forgot you have a wicked weak stomach these days.”
Mellie glares across the table at Fiona, totally furious.
“I’m not going to tell you about Niall’s torture techniques anymore if you telleveryone,” she hisses.
Shit. The blood drains out of my face. I keep forgetting my lovely friend Mellie who messages me wicked funny jokes almost daily, is married to theIrish Reaper,and is apparentlyveryon board with his profession.
Tiggy takes charge of the conversation, fixing her eyes on me.
“What exactly does he send to you when he’s harassing you?” she asks, holding out her hand. I pull up the messages, handing my phone over. Tiggy bends to read it, Lauren craning her neck to read over Tiggy’s arm. Tiggy’s lips purse as she reads.
“This is definitely harassment. It’s totally illegal. I’d say bordering on stalking. He can’t be allowed to keep harassing you. We have to decide to do something. I won’t let one of my girls get harassed.”
She needs to stop saying the word “harass.” Anyone could walk in.
“I haven’t dealt with harassment recently, but it was common when I was a social worker.”
The door opens, and I shoot Tiggy a glare, but she doesn’t notice, still staring at my phone.
“I could reach out to some of my old social worker contacts. They might have some up-to-date advice for dealing with online harassment.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Lauren pipes up, ignoring that Liam has walked into the room. What. The. Fuck? “Harassment is a serious issue.”
Liam is standing rightthere. What thehellare those two playing at?
“Who’s harassingwho?” he snaps. Suddenly, everyone isveryinterested in this gorgeous hardwood desk of Seamus Fitzpatrick’s.
“No one is harassing anyone,” I finally reply huffily.
Liam’s eyes narrow on me, studying me. Raising an eyebrow, he turns on his heel and storms away. Shit. He’s probably going to go and find Connor.
“Thanks for nothing!” I snap at the rest of the girls, who look shamefaced. Good. So they should. Itoldthem I didn’t want Connor to know about this.
