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“Well, now you have the chance to tell him to screw himself.”
Is it wrong that a little thrill of excitement races through me at the idea? After all these years. I'm finally going to get the chance to tell him exactly what I think about him. How hilarious it is to me that he's doing exactly what he always said he didn't want to do back in school: following in his father's footsteps, running the family business, bowing and scraping to a bunch of dusty old people—his words, not mine. He's so pitiful, he couldn't be bothered to step out on his own and make a name for himself. It was much easier to sit back and wait for his father to retire so he could take the reins and continue living life on easy mode.
But life isn't so easy, is it? “I have no doubt his big mouth got him into trouble,” I muse, skimming the message again like there is a chance it will say something different this time. “All he ever did was run his mouth back in the day.”
“And you can remind him of that. I am seriously jealous of you.” She holds up her clenched fists, shadow boxing. “Punch him right in the balls. Make him feel it for all of us who never got the chance.”
I can't help but roll my eyes. “Please. You've been walking this earth looking like a supermodel from day one.”
Her face falls a little, and I instantly regret my choice of words.
“There are still mean people in the world," she reminds me in a softer voice. “Jerks and idiots and men who ghost you after stringing you along for weeks.”
The way she says it, she’s speaking from experience.
“You're right. I’m sorry.”
I sink back against the supple leather, taking in my surroundings, looking at them from a fresh perspective. The tasteful decor, the amazing view outside my window. This is my business, something I built, and I'm a success. The sky's the limit when it comes to how far I can go. I've got something to be proud of, something worth respecting.
I don't need to hang on to those memories. I can put all of that behind me. Sawyer can dangle on a thread for all I care, kicking his feet to avoid touching them to the fire blazing under him. I’m not even required to offer a response.
But wouldn't it be nice to get a little closure before I move on once and for all?
“Uh-oh.”
“What?” I ask her.
“You're grinning. I know that look. You just got an idea.”
Lifting a shoulder, I try, and fail, to hide a smirk. “Maybe I should go to an interview.”
If her eyebrows go any higher, they might leave her forehead entirely. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Now there's no hiding my wicked smile while my heart begins to flutter in anticipation. “It might not be a bad idea to see him face-to-face one more time and tell him exactly what I think about him.”
“So long as you're sure it's the right thing for you.”
“Don't worry,” I tell her, my smile widening as everything starts coming together in my head. “I think I have a plan.”
