Page 37 of Fate

ChapterNine

Kathleen

To: Kathleen Bennett

From: Carson Davis

I’m sorry I haven’t called. You don’t know how sorry I am. I missyou.

A fucking text?Is he for real? Three days, and nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. He neglected to call me, and after day two I finally broke down and called him, against Bree’s advice. She said to blow him off until he came crawling back. Instead, I went against her better judgment. And for what? So he could ignore my call and send me an impersonal text instead?

I missyou.

“What the fuckingfuck?”

My fingers fly against the keyboard of my iPhone.

To: Carson Davis

From: Kathleen Bennett

That’s all you have to say for yourself? After Friday night? You said you lovedme.

I snarl and hit send so hard my thumb hurts.

Bastard. Who does he think he is to string me along? I glance at the phone. The three little dots signaling he’s typing a message are hovering under my angry words. I roll my eyes and glance out over the busy San Francisco street. The scent of cinnamon buns and coffee is thick in the air, making my stomach growl. I’m sitting at my favorite little corner café bistro across the street from the park where Maria and Eli live. She should be here any minute for a morning pick-me-up. It’s part of my plan to get back to me. The woman I used to be, or some two point oh variation of her. The main ingredient in the spice of finding myself is mending the ties that I’ve broken with my soul sisters. I’m definitely not me withoutthem.

The phone in my hand beeps.

To: Kathleen Bennett

From: Carson Davis

I do love you. Give me time. I’m dealing with something.

Give him time? As if three years wasn’t enough. I take a sip of my latte, and it burns my tongue.

“Fucking fuckity fuck!” I roar, slamming the offending thing down on the table. A dose of hot latte squirts out the top through the tiny hole in the lid and sprays all over the table in front ofme.

“Seems as though I came at the perfect time.” Maria holds her hands up palms facing out at me. “I’m unarmed. Don’t spray me with your weapon of mass deliciousness.” She grins, flips her long black braid over her shoulder, and sits down in the chair opposite ofmine.

“Hey, Ria. I’m sorry,” I mumble while burning with embarrassment.

“Sounds like you were having a pretty fun time with your coffee there. Care to tell me what brought on the F-bomber? Not normally your speed, gatita.”

I slump down into the chair and run my fingers through my shoulder-length hair. “Carson textedme.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, the cool leather bomber jacket she’s wearing molding to her arms and chest seductively. My best friend is sex on legs. Half Italian, half Spanish, a curvaceous dancer with a rack that makes men swoon, and legs for days. I pout thinking about how I can’t even wear tight clothing like hers because it rubs against the tender skin of myarm.

“What did the prick with a dick say? ¿El se pidio discuplas? Did he apologize?”

“Not exactly. He did say he loved me and he needed time. Said he was dealing with something.”

She huffs. “Yeah, a two-bit whore he has to shake off.” Her nose crinkles, and her face contorts into one of irritation.

I take a long, slow breath. “Who knows?”

Her head turns to me quickly. “Exactly. I know exactly who knows.” She grins, a devilish excitement overtaking her features.

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