Page 15 of Unforeseen Love

Sighing, I nod, and she goes to get up, but I shake my head as I bring the phone to my ear.

“I’m at work,” I say without any preamble.

“Oh, well, I just wanted you to know your direct debit for the electric bill never went through.”

I actually laugh at that. “Well, yeah, I don’t live there anymore. It’s not my problem.”

Orla huffs before answering. “Yeah, well, seeing as it’s in your name and not mine, I think you’ll find it is your problem.”

And right there is the issue with so many of the bills being solely in my name. I thought I changed them all, but clearly not, and the last thing I need is bad credit.

“I’ll call you later. You need to have it put in your name.”

Sienna is tapping away on her laptop, trying to act uninterested, but I can tell she’s curious about my conversation.

“Okay, make sure you do, Hunnybunch.”

I cringe at her fucking pet name and grunt out, “I will,” and disconnect the call.

Muttering to myself, I hold my finger down on the side of the phone and swipe to turn it off.

“Everything okay?” Sienna asks, reminding me I’m not alone.

“Peachy,” I reply, and then pull up the report on my computer.

We spend the next hour and a half going through the stock and distributers we think might possibly become an issue, but we’ll need to deal with those on a case-by-case basis.

I’m grateful Uncle Ewan has always been one to stock up on supplies––he always said, just in case.

Sienna’s stomach grumbles loudly enough for her cheeks to heat.

“You hungry, Morticia?”

She flicks her eyes to mine, and glowers at me. For some reason, that makes me smile––such a fucking spitfire.

“I missed lunch,” she says as she closes her laptop. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Well, technically, it is, she is my employee after all.

Sienna shakes her head and gets to her feet.

“If that’s all, I still have some admin to take care of before I can clock off,” she says, already moving towards the door.

I nod. “That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

I don’t miss the way her entire body tenses. She mumbles something under her breath, slamming my office door behind her––something it appears she does pretty frequently, at least around me anyway. Like I said, a spitfire.

I spent the next hour or so going over the handover from Uncle Ewan, as well as reaching out to the clientele, wanting to introduce myself so they’re aware that even though he won’t be taking care of their arrangements, they have nothing to worry about and are still in good hands.

After retrieving my phone, I switch it back on, and message alerts immediately start to come through. But it’s not the couple from Orla or the ones in my group chat that catch my attention, it’s the one from Ricky.

I haven’t spoken to him since I punched him in the face, enough to knock out one of his teeth. And, man, did that son of a bitch hurt. I’ve been in a scuffle or two but never physically hit someone out of pure rage and anger.

His betrayal hurt me more than anything Orla could have done to me, especially seeing as he was the one who warned me against getting in a relationship with her and moving in with her in the first place.

I’d just put it down to him being worried about no longer having a wingman, but now I think there was a lot more to it than that. What’s worse is how many of our mutual friends knew they were fucking like bunnies behind my back.

It’s like I’m grieving his friendship. I scoff at that. Friends my arse.

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