“So say you.” I try to focus with double vision and my stomach churns, wanting to rid me of the last half hour of drinking.
Suds has no mercy. “Read the fucking message again, ya dumb Aussie. Your wife doesn’t text in whole words. No one under forty does.”
Callie: I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk to you. I never want to see you again.
What the fuck, over?He’s right. She would’ve written the you as a capital U. I fumble around and manage to find my text history. “Shit. They’re all like that. Someone must have her phone.”
Suds puts an arm around my waist to steady me when the room spins. “I bet you a thousand bucks, her mother’s doing the texting.”
I throw some bills down on the bar, force one foot in front of the other, and stumble toward the red exit.
Outside, I hand the cell phone to my pal. “Call me an Uber. I got a flight to catch.”
And one mother-in-law to set straight.
