MACEY
I was brushing my teeth when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and nearly rolled my eyes out of my head.
Damien: “I’m sorry.”
That was it. No explanation. No context. Just two words and a period that somehow managed to sound smug.
I rinsed my mouth, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “That’s it? Yeah, just I’m sorry?” I muttered, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth like a prop in a bad rom-com.
Men. Complicated, broody, emotionally unavailable men, apparently.
I tossed the toothbrush into the cup, grabbed my phone, and stared at the message again like maybe the screen would magically reveal more. But nope, just those same two words, sitting there like they owned the place.
He’d snapped at me this evening for no reason, stormed off like some tortured hero from
