Sharon stared at Russell’s message, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. The audacity of him to text her after everything. She pulled into her apartment’s parking lot, killed the engine, and leaned back against her seat, letting the weight of the day settle over her.
Do we need to talk? she thought bitterly. What do you want now, Russell?
The rational part of her screamed to ignore him, to block his number and shut him out of her life completely. But the manipulative side,the one that had been honing its skills in the aftermath of her disastrous marriage,saw an opportunity.
With a deep breath, she grabbed her phone and typed a response.
Sharon: Meet me tomorrow at 8 p.m. The usual place.
The reply came almost instantly.
Russell: Good. See you then.
Her stomach twisted in knots
