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Mack:Like that wasn’t your fault.
Me:I told you I was fine.
Mack:You always say that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.
Me:And how did you know I was home?
Mack:I tracked your phone.
I forgot I had shared my location with him and never turned it back off. I remedy that immediately.
Me:Stalker much?
Mack:Keep pretending you don’t like it.
My jaw drops. Who does this fucker think he is? He’s right, but still.
Me:Goodnight, Carver.
Mack:No. No, not goodnight. Is he there with you?
Me:You don’t get to play that game with me.
Mack:I’m not trying to play games with you. What can I do to fix this?
Me:I don’t know. Figure it out.
Mack:Let me come over.
Me:Absolutely not.
Mack:Why not?
Me:Because you’re just trying to figure out if John is staying over.
Mack:Is he?
Me:You haven’t earned the privilege of knowing that intimate of details about my life.
Mack:Like fuck I haven’t!
Me:Mm, so sorry, I’m getting sooooo sleepy.
Mack:Thea!
Mack:Don’t you dare!
Mack:Thea Marie! You come back right now!
I don’t.
Not even ten minutes later I get a notification from work about a text response. “This motherfucker can not be serious.”
Of course he did. Of course he fucking did. Mack paid to have me respond to him. I can’t just ignore it or I’ll have Melissa all over my ass about not responding to clients on time. Although, technically I have forty eight hours to respond because I’m off today. I open my work app and click on the message anyway.
Client message:Call me. Now.
Molly:No problem. I can get online, but I have to warn you that you’ll be paying off hours rates.
