SHE (Book #1)

15

**Tempest POV***

"Are you sure you want to go with him? I would gladly accompany you," Frank follows be down the stairs to the kitchen.

"For the last time, I think I will be fine. I don't want him to think I was affected too deeply," I take a sip of my iced coffee and slide Frank his hot coffee.

We have been going back and forth about the situation that went down with Malachi. Frank thinks it's not a good idea to trust a man whose ego I completely stepped on. I tell him I am teaching him a life lesson of self-respect and feminism. He tells me not everyone takes criticism well. I tell him I can defend myself easily if it gets to a dangerous point. He tells me I have no chance against a man twice my height. 

The doorbell rings and puts an end to the bickering.

Frank opens the door and I follow right behind him. Except it's not Malachi.
It's Liam Michealson, the second eldest son of the Michealson family.
With a gift, this early in the morning...

He comes in for only a couple of minutes, hands me the gift, and leaves nervously. 
Another pair of gloves.

"What the fuck? Why are they giving me gloves?"

"Language, Tempest," Frank says, eyeing Liam as he leaves, "It's probably out of courtesy for the upcoming ball,"

I shrug it off and hand it to him. 

Courtesy? Since when are gloves a symbol of courtesy?
Rich people have a whole different perspective of the world.

The doorbell rings again.
I open it.
He stands there.

His eyes seem a bit red, a darker shade under his eyes. He looks sleep-deprived. 

"Ready?" he says.

I nod. Frank arrives and watches us go. Malachi opens the passenger door for me, avoiding eye contact. I slide into his car, my first time in the passenger seat since the last time I was here with Liv and Cole. 

The car ride is eerily quiet.
He lets out a big breath every once in a while, running his hands through his hair. His knuckles are almost white to the bone as he grips it with all his might.

"I am sorry," he finally says.

"What?"

"I am sorry," he repeats.

I look on to the road ahead of us, "For what?"

"Come on, don't be like this. You know why I am apologizing,"

I turn my head to him, "It's a lot easier to apologize without mentioning your wrongs because a part of you still thinks you did nothing wrong. Apologize with an explanation of what you did or don't apologize at all,"

He stops at a red light and turns to look at me, "You won't make anything easy me, huh," I nod. I won't make it easy on him. I was never planning on making it easy on him. He needs to understand that his toxic masculinity and womanizer behavior are not going to get him anywhere in life. He starts over, "I am sorry for being an asshole. For making you feel like you are an option. For making it seem like I was playing with you. For comparing you to other women. For literally existing,"

The last one sounded sarcastic.

I look at him, like really look at him. He seems sincere, troubled, disturbed, but I can tell he means it. "I forgive you,"

I almost laugh.
Forgiveness is something I have been working on. For the little things and the major things in my life, forgiveness is what can fix it all. I can start here.