Page 121 of Bitter Rival

I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.

Love, Finn

Who does this clown think he’s fooling? He obviously doesn’t have a fucking clue what being someone’s ride or die entails.

By definition, it means you’ve pledged your undying loyalty to that person.

Douchebag cheated on her—multiple times—thereby proving that he’s the furthest one can get from being anyone’s ride or die.

You’re a cheater, dude. You don’t have a loyal bone in your body and you don’t get another chance.

But it just goes to show how delusional he is to think he can make up for his actions by sending some measly flowers.

Red roses, to boot. How fucking predictable. What an unimaginative bore.

Doesn’t he know her at all? Daisy is not a red roses kind of girl.

Daisy is an array of rare, exotic blooms. A field of wildflowers. A unique flower to represent each personality trait.

Chaotic and colorful. Messy and unpredictable. Knowing and innocent. Sweet and dirty.

And what does he mean, he’ll be waiting for her?

Will he be sitting outside her front door? In her bed?

Does he have keys to her apartment?

Fucking hell. I’ll bet he does. That would be just like Daisy to give her ex-boyfriend a set of keys.

No way around it. The flowers have to go.

I lift the lid off the swing bin and stuff the roses inside, bending the stems so they’ll fit better and shoving them all the way down so they’ll never see the light of day.

After pulling the bag out of the container, I crush them under the sole of my boot and tie the bag handles into a knot.

Some of the stems poke through the plastic so I snap them off, shove them back inside and double bag it just to be safe.

Fucking thorns. I suck a drop of blood off my skin as I carry the bag outside and toss it into the wheelie bin.

You’re garbage, dude. You never deserved Daisy.

On the off chance that Daisy will rummage through the wheelie bin, I cart it to the edge of the property for garbage pick up day and head back to the house.

Job done. All traces of those red roses are gone and forgotten.

The lengths I’ll go to ensure I’m not caught is almost laughable.

But if you ask me, I’m doing Daisy a favor.

That douchebag doesn’t deserve another chance.

“You’re still selling it?” Ledger asks in surprise as he sets a plate of tacos in front of me.

I take a bite of the fish taco and shrug. “Why wouldn’t I? That’s always been the plan.”

“Seems a shame after all the work you put into it,” Caiden says. “And for what it’s worth, you look a lot happier now than you did back in July. Sure you won’t reconsider?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I have an apartment in San Francisco overlooking the Bay and plans for another startup. What am I going to do with a vineyard?”

---