Chapter 11
The weekend sucked, and not in a good way. It seemed I couldn’t go five whole minutes without thinking of the way Ford had dumped me in the WFI parking lot, and I continued wracking my brain to figure out why.
Had I not shown the appropriate level of compassion for his situation? Had I said something that he had horribly misconstrued? Or had I said too much, or too little? Had I not thoroughly masked my feelings when the phone call interrupted us, and had he glimpsed the momentary anger on my face?
Regardless of the answer, renewed irritation took root over the weekend and occasionally blossomed into out-and-out fury. And not all of it aimed at Ford, either—although he could claim a large dose of it, nonetheless. I directed most of the wrath at myself. My inner voice had warn
