Bob didn’t know when to give up. I always hated that about him. That didn’t change with the divorce.
Even after I refused to see him, he kept calling me and trying to change my mind. The texts were more annoying than the phone calls. Somehow, he got even more desperate in writing.
I thought about blocking his number. In hindsight, I should have. After all, what use did I have for staying in contact with him after the divorce settlement, other than to ensure that the house got sold?
Something inside me couldn’t do it, though. Something too polite or too sentimental couldn’t burn that bridge, despite everything Bob and his family had done to me. And I wanted so badly to beat that side of me into line with the rest of me.
Instead, I finally took another of his calls.
“What part of ‘no
