Page 9 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

I blink in surprise at the change in her voice; where before she was speaking softly, she’s now very much at full volume—and upset, if I’m at all reading her tone correctly. I thought her previous pause was just hesitation, but now I wonder if she wasn’t moving to someplace where she could speak more…forcefully.

“I’m not trying to kick you out yet,” I say. “But—”

“Yet?” Maya says, cutting me off, which I do not at all appreciate. “Are you allowed to do this? I signed a year’s lease.”

“You did,” I say with a nod, “but that lease is contingent upon you meeting the tenant requirements. Which you don’t,” I add, probably unnecessarily.

“You have to be kidding me,” she says, her voice faintly incredulous. Then, her voice stronger, she goes on, “No. No way. I’m sorry, but I can’t move out like this, at the drop of a hat.”

She’srefusing?Point blank?

I flex my jaw, removing my glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose. “Miss Ellis, I’m not kicking you out. I just want to discuss the situation. Is it possible for you to find housing elsewhere?”

“So let me get this straight,” she says, and I canhearher fuming. Even though I have no idea what this woman looks like, I’m assaulted with the image of some fiery goddess of vengeance, hands on her hips, storm clouds overhead. “You say you’re not kicking me out, but you’re asking me to leave?” she goes on. “That’s thedefinitionof kicking me out. I have a baby, Mr. Antonio—”

“Anthony,” I correct automatically.

“Sorry,” she says dismissively. “Mr. Anthony. You’re trying to force me out of my home, but I can’t just pick up and move.”

“While I would be well within my rights to evict you immediately, that’s not what I’m doing, Miss Ellis,” I say, strivingvaliantlynot to lose my temper. “I’m not a cruel man.”

She gives a skeptical snort, which I ignore.

“I would suggest you begin looking for other housing,” I go on. “I’ll check in with you in a month to see how the search is—”

But I break off when the line goes dead, the rest of my words dying on my lips.

She hung up on me.

Somehow this is more irritating than anything she’s said up until now. Who does that? Does she realize how immature it is, how unprofessional, to hang up on someone in a fit of temper?

I lean back in my chair, putting myself through the same breathing exercises I do when I get off the phone with my mother—breathe in, hold it, breathe out. I massage my jaw, which feels like it might be permanently clenched, and then roll my shoulders a few times to release the tension.

That is one tiring woman. And, unfortunately, I’m pretty sure she’s my new neighbor. I’ll have to check to make sure, but I’m almost positive unit thirty is the one I’m moving into tomorrow morning. It’s been undergoing updates to fix the water-damaged floor and ceiling, but that’s done now.

So that will be fun. Especially since I get the feeling I haven’t heard the last of Maya Ellis.

My phone pings with a notification, and I swipe to unlock before looking at it. It’s a message from the Sunset Horizons app—probably Hanan, the woman I’ve been chatting with for the last six months or so. Hanan isn’t what she’s actually called, but it’s the name she uses since we decided to stay anonymous. I hadn’t ever heard the name before; apparently, according to her, Hanan is some kind of goddess in Tagalog mythology. I get along with her surprisingly well considering I’m not a mythology kind of man, and considering I’m less than skillful at things like small talk. She brings out a lightness in me that usually stays hidden otherwise, maybe because with her I don’t have to worry about being professional or dignified or anything. I can just…be.

So I open the app and pull up the new message.

Hanan:Have you ever just wanted to strangle someone with your bare hands?

A smile ghosts across my lips as I think of Maya Ellis, and I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable as I reply.

Me:I’ve come close.

Hanan:I was just talking to this guy and he was a total jerk and UGH.

Me:We can hunt him down if you want.

Hanan:Ha. Like you would ever beat anyone up.

I smile, but she’s not wrong. I’m not the violent type. Physical altercations just seem like an inefficient way to solve problems.

My eyes dart back to my phone as another message pops up.

Hanan:Anyway, now I’m going to eat my feelings and watch TV

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