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A text alert startled me out of my sleep. I opened one eye and glanced at the bedside clock. 10:33 p.m. One glance at the name, and I popped straight up.
A text from Tim, akaDickwad, illuminated my screen.
Siena
Ihadn’t been asleep long, but I was still irked he texted me this late.Like he couldn’t have texted earlier in the day? What the fuck?
Tim: Siena, I’d really like an opportunity to talk with you. The money is yours. I’ll get it back to you. Can we please talk?
Was he freaking kidding me?
I waited a moment to reply.
Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Tim: Why? Really? I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do to prove to you how sorry I am.
I didn’t respond. What the hell was I even going to say to that? He hadn’t even done shit to prove he was sorry except profusely apologize. Too little, too late. Nothing he could say or do would matter to me in the least. My screen lit up again.
Tim: There are some things I need to tell you and talk to you about. Things I need to say. Please.
I still had nothing to say. I didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or feel.
Five minutes later, another text came through.
Tim: PLEASE.
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
I finally texted,I’ll think about it.
He immediately responded,Thank you! I know I don’t deserve it. But thank you.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I slammed the phone down. I didn’t know if I’d actually think about it or not. The bottom line was I needed the money. It was mine. He knew it. I knew it. But was I up to seeing him? Would I be able to see him in person and not punch the living daylights out of him? Would I be able to hold myself back from exploding like a grenade? I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t want to see him because it still hurt too much to admit I’d been too fucking naïve, too fucking blind, to see what was going on right under my goddamned nose. But, maybe Ishouldmeet up with him and get everything off my chest. Say the things I didn’t when I was still in shock.
Didn’t I owe it to myself to get some closure? I knew I didn’t owe Tim a damn thing, but didn’t I deserve to tell him everything he had made me feel? And since I’d be there anyway, hopefully accepting a new job as head chef, why not just get it out of the way and be done with it? A simple meeting: get the money, let him say what he had to say, say everything I needed to say that I had been holding in and holding back. Then walk away knowing I had done the right thing and could finally move on.
Was I right to think this way? Should I avoid him or meet him? Should I be the bigger person or just sayscrew you? I needed to talk to the girls.
Sleep came surprisingly easy, and so did dreams about a sexy beast of a man with unruly dark brown hair, chocolate eyes, and a devilishly delectable smile.
I was cranky when I woke up. I knew why. Not only did I have Tim to deal with, but I dreamt about Michael. Again. Why couldn’t I get that fucker out of my head?
I had woken up wet between the legs and sweaty all over. I didn’t remember much of my dream, but the part I remembered was how he was grabbing my ass and grinding into me. I was frustrated, both emotionally and sexually. Maybe I needed to do what the girls suggested and just bang his head against the headboard a few times. I decided what I needed right this moment was a hot shower.
The shower helped ease some of my tension. I was ready to talk to my three besties.
Me: 911. Tim text. He wants to see me. Can we meet tonight?
Audrey: FUCK him!
Lauren: Yes! I’m down for Happy Hour!
Jenny: No way! What’d he say?
Audrey sent an eyeroll emoji quickly followed by a middle finger.
