Page 80 of Desiring an Angel

My stomach refused to relax, and I put the top back on my salad and tossed it in the trash, my forehead dented with a frown.

I hated the fact I didn’t have them all to myself, that I had to share them with memories of other women…

The thought trailed off.

I suddenly understood Rhett’s jealousy.

A swell of empathy attempted to drown me in the need to smother him with the assurance and affection he’d seemed to thrive under that one night he’d allowed me a glimpse of his true self.

My fingers once more shook, but I texted Ashton back. I hope you have a relaxing dinner together. I think it’s best too if I stay in the guest room tonight. In fact, I’ll probably be sleeping by the time you get home.

Ashton: Please don’t feel bad about this. I really want things to work out between the three of us.

“Such a sweetheart,” I murmured to myself while smiling even though my heart ached for Rhett and the entire emotional situation he found himself in. I could do better to help him—maybe even heal whatever crack my arrival had caused in their relationship.

Me: I understand how Rhett is feeling, and I know your love for him runs deep. Enjoy your date night. I’ll have breakfast ready for you in the morning. Sleep well—and be as loud as you want before doing so. I won’t complain.

I included a wink emoji, a couple of kissing ones, and hopped up to get back to work.

My cell pinged again, and I dug it out of my back pocket, still smiling.

For the second time in twenty minutes, my lips flatlined.

Nora had texted.

Not Ashton.

I hadn’t spoken to my sister since she’d kicked me out of the house. Her single line text took me from relaxed to anxious once more.

I’m taking your cell off my plan.

No, how are you doing? No, I hope you’re doing well. Not even something sarcastic about bad choices and wondering over if I’d reaped the consequences yet of running off with a man I didn’t even know.

The cell pinged again.

Mom told me you won’t listen to reason, and even though Dad said you’re free to fly, I hope you realize the bed you’re making for yourself will end in nothing but heartache.

I didn’t respond, simply shoved my cell back into my pocket and trudged back to work, my mind preoccupied with my own situation.

Finances.

Affording a cell phone plan of my own.

No credit.

Working long hours for minimum wage that was far from what a person could live off in sunny California where a loaf of bread cost three times as much as the middle of nowhere South Dakota.

I crushed a box of strawberries with a bag of apples.

Flattened two packages of hamburger rolls with boxes of their frozen counterparts.

The first customer to gripe at my inability to properly pack groceries got me an eye roll from the cashier I bagged for.

The second and third had me again muttering an apology, but I couldn’t keep tears from welling in my eyes.

Paying attention became impossible, and before long, the manager came over to check on me.

More apologies, tears slipping down my cheeks, promises to do better…and she kindly suggested I take the rest of the afternoon off.

---