I lie in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. Carl comes home from work, and I wring my hands as I listen to his and Evelyn’s hushed voices. Carl’s is raised slightly, but I still can’t understand what he’s saying. A part of me wants to leave my cozy double bed and try to listen in on their conversation, but the sensible and tired part of me keeps me in bed. Their discussion lulls for a while, and I start to drift off. The ping of my phone has me pushing the lavender duvet off me as I reach for it on the side table.
Don’t make me come looking for you.
That one sentence from Jared plays havoc with my emotions. I want to pause them and place them under the microscope like Evelyn had taught me, but I’m drained. Instead, I text back quickly, not doubting his threat.
I’ll have lunch with you tomorrow. I hit send before I can think any more about him. I don’t even get the phone put back down when it pings again.
That was a given. See you tomorrow, Layla.