Disney Got It Wrong

Chapter 12

Myles: Good morning sweetheart. How is Breslin this morning?

Me: Good morning! She's fine. Her usual sassy self. Thank you for asking.

Myles: Glad to hear it. Did you sleep well?

Me: Honestly? Not really. Woke up every little bit stressing her numbers. They were fine all night but it worries me when she has a random low like that. I'll sleep better when her body finally gets its act together.

Myles: I can imagine. Woke up concerned about her myself. Glad to hear that all is back to normal. Wyd today?

Me: Got a blog post to work on for the weekend. Taking advantage of a kid free home while I have the chance.

Myles: Awesome. Can't wait to read it. You scored a new fan btw. I really like your style. You're fun to read.

Me: Thank you!

That short exchange with Myles while I hustled through the morning routine with the kids did a lot toward alleviating my lingering worries about the day before. I still felt like I had some apologizing to do, but I wasn't stressing so much anymore. 

About mid morning, while I was running through some emails from my sponsors and reviewing new ad spaces for the blog, I paused long enough to send Myles a snap of my writing space with my open laptop, notebook, and a few different colored pens and highlighters. I fired it off with the caption, "Hard at it. How's your morning going?" I had just set my phone back down when the message alert pinged on my phone.

Derek: Will you meet me for lunch? We need to talk.

With a sour face and a very thorough roll of my eyes, I set my phone down by my laptop and turned back to my work. No way was I giving him the time of day. If he couldn't take the hint I sent when I didn't bother to answer him yesterday, that was his problem. Derek was officially old news, and I wasn't one for that kind of nostalgia. And better yet...

I picked my phone up once more to block his number, then I blocked him on social media as well. That would give him a taste of his own medicine and cut communication ties.

When I finally got through my emails and answered a few comments on my last post, I tried to get a start on my next blog post. But then my doorbell rang. I leaned over my desk to peek out the window and saw Derek's truck parked in my driveway.

If I had ever wished for a garage to hide my car so I could pretend I wasn't home, I sure as hell was wishing for one in that moment. I really didn't want to have the argument we were surely about to have. I hate conflict, and I'd had my fill of it the day before.

My doorbell rang a second time, and I sighed wearily as I shuffled to the door. I looked through the curtain over the little window in the door to confirm that it was Derek standing on the other side, called up all the patience I still had left, and opened the door to stare at him blankly while I waited for him to say whatever it was he was there to say.

"Hey," he began, offering me an uncertain smile.

"What do you want?" I asked, choosing to bypass any and all pleasant pretense.

"To talk," he said. "To apologize. Can I come in?"

I stepped out on the front porch and closed the door behind me, crossing my arms as I leaned against the outer door frame. He gave me the usual quick once over, and I was secretly proud of myself for actually putting in a little effort this morning, wearing a pair of fitted denim shorts and a pink plaid shirt instead of running around like a crazy woman in my sweats like I usually did. Let him kick himself in the ass for what he lost while he groveled at my feet for the forgiveness he wouldn't be receiving.