Page 20 of Mistlefoe
I pause. “Yeah, this morning.”
“Then you’re not so terrible after all. Truly bad people never admit their wrongs.” And with that, she glides out of the restroom, leaving me to my existential crisis.
“Maybe I should apologize again,” I tell my reflection in the mirror. She has glassy eyes and her chin trembles like she wants to start crying. I take a deep breath and immediately cough at the stench of a busy day’s worth of bathroom yuck.
First, I need to step back out of here and face him. But then what? I already apologized for being an ass, what would be the point of doing it again? I have to just… stop being one. Treat him the same way I treat Stephen or any other coworker. That’s literally the only way I have to atone.
I smack my cheeks to snap myself out of the funk, and finally walk out.
CHAPTER 9
CONOR
Gramps the Grump
Wanna come over for dinner?
I’m making green bean casserole and fresh cornbread.
Your favorite.
Iknow. My stomach roars like a monster merely upon reading the text message. Problem is, I think we’ll be at this fair a while. And not just because Sierra’s taking a long time in the women’s restroom.
Me
Sorry, will probably have to work late today
Save me leftovers?
Gramps the Grump
Can do.
For a price.
My eye twitches.
Me
What was that? My fave homemade dish as thank you for taking you to the dentist and pissing my coworker off because I was so late coming back to the office? Hmm?
Gramps the Grump
Would you look at that.
New grandsons on sale on this here website I just found.
I can’t help chuckling at the cheek on the old man. I’m typing back another smartass response when I feel two laser beams drilling into my head.
Lifting my eyes, I find Sierra studying me like she expects me to drop into a dead faint all of a sudden. I take a deep breath and expel it through my nose. This happens a lot after the injury, people treating me like I’m fragile.
And okay, I kind of am. But it doesn’t feel great to have it rubbed on my face when that’s precisely what I try so hard to forget everyday.
Now that I think about it, until this weird day, she was the only outlier.
I return my phone to my pocket and make my way over to her. “Ready to get seriously festive?”
“I’m always festive.” She runs those dark eyes of hers all over my face, the seriousness in her expression not reflecting any of the cheer around us.
