I drop my phone onto my bed, my hands trembling. I can’t believe he sent these. I was hoping the four days of silence was a stretch of remorse on his part, but it’s obvious he’s been stewing in his anger.
This is so much worse than I thought.
I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t. I get up and make myself a cup of coffee, but my stomach is too upset to drink it. I spend the next half hour standing in my kitchen, staring at nothing, replaying those texts over and over in my mind.
When Emerson finally wakes up, I’m relieved. I am more than welcoming to the distraction of our chaotic morning routine.
By the time I drop her off with my mother and make it to work, it’s eight o’clock sharp. I’m the first one at the flower shop, so I distract myself with as much as I can until Serena and Lucy show up. Lucy can tell something is wrong with me, she even asks me if I’m okay at one point, but I reassure her that I’m fine.
I pretend Iamfine, but I’m watching the front door every chance I get, expecting Ryle to angrily burst through it. I wait for another mean text from him. I wait for the phone to ring.
Hours go by and there’s nothing. Not even an apology.
I don’t tell Atlas, I don’t tell Allysa, I don’t say anything to anyone throughout the day about what he’s done. It’s embarrassing. It’s insulting to Atlas; it’s insulting to me. I have no idea what to do about it, but I know that this isn’t something I’m willing to tolerate. I refuse to go the next seventeen years of my daughter’s life being abused in any way, even through text messages.
Serena has gone for the day, and it’s just Lucy and me when the inevitable finally happens. It’s after five, and we’re just getting ready to close up shop so I can pick upEmerson from my mother’s when Ryle walks through the front door.
My anxiety shoots through me like an explosion of lava.
Lucy has never been Ryle’s biggest fan, so she groans under her breath when she sees him and says, “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“Lucy, wait,” I whisper. I look down at my phone like I’m busy with something so Ryle can’t see my lips moving. “Stay.” I glance at her so she can see the concern in my eyes. She just nods and finds something to make herself look busy.
My heart is hammering against my chest when Ryle approaches. I don’t even try to hide behind a fake expression when I look him in the eye.
He holds my stare for a few seconds and then side-eyes Lucy. He nudges his head toward my office. “Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving.” My words come out quick and firm. “I have to pick up our daughter.”
I can see Ryle’s left hand grip the edge of the counter. He squeezes it, and the muscles in his arm flex. “Please. It won’t take long.”
I look at Lucy. “Wait for me to lock up?” She gives me a reassuring nod, so I turn on my heels and walk to my office. I can hear him right behind me. I fold my arms over my chest and suck in a breath before I can face him.
I’m so sick of his remorse. I want to wipe that stupid frown off his face, I’m so angry.
“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and winces, coming closer. “I had too much to drink at an event last night and…”
I say nothing.
“I don’t even remember sending those texts, Lily.”
I still say nothing. He begins to fidget, growing uncomfortable in my silent anger. He slides his hands into his pockets and stares at his feet. “Did you tell Allysa?”
I don’t answer that question. If anything, it infuriates me even more. He’s worried what his sister will think of him more than what kind of damage he’s doing to me? “No, but I told a lawyer.” I’m lying, but it’ll be the truth as soon as he leaves this building. From this point forward, I’m documenting everything he does to me. Atlas is right. Ryle looks perfect on paper, and if he’s going to continue with abusive tactics, I need to protect myself and Emerson.
Ryle’s eyes slowly journey to mine. “Youwhat?”
“I sent them to my lawyer.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Seriously? You pinned me against a door on Sunday, and then you sent me threatening texts in the middle of the night. I have done nothing to deserve this, Ryle!”
He pulls his hands from his pockets and squeezes the back of his neck as he spins to face the other direction. He stretches his back while he sucks in a breath. He seems to be holding that breath in while he silently counts in an attempt to subdue the anger building in him.
We both know how those techniques have worked in the past.
When he turns around, the remorse is gone. “You don’t see the pattern, here? Are you really that blind?”