So, I moved on to the other messages and went about my day.
I was at work when he walked inside.
Not he, as in Bastien, but he, as in my soon-to-be ex-husband, Adrien.
He took a seat at the bar and looked at me with his classic pissed-off expression.
I stared him down with the most irritation I could muster. “Why are you here?”
He continued to stare at me, a tint to his face.
“Are you going to order something or…?” I didn’t have time for this immature bullshit. There were other people sitting at the bar. Even though it was a weeknight, it was a packed house.
“You had someone at your apartment last night.”
I stilled at the statement and felt the anger seep in. “You’re watching me?”
“Making sure you’re safe—”
“I’m not doing this here.” I wanted to raise my voice but couldn’t. “You
