I have no idea where to go from here. How do I salvage this?
Because one thing is for sure, I am going to fight for her. I might have really messed things up, but I won’t let her go so easily.
I only hope it’s not too late to get her back.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
IRIS
For two days,I hid out in my apartment. I didn’t want to go to work, so I took sick days and worked from home.
Max has called and texted a few times, but I have ignored him. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, but I need to process my feelings first. I know I could call one of the girls, but I feel bad talking negatively about Max at all to them. He’s their family more than they are mine. They wouldn’t feel that way, but I don’t want to shade him in a negative light.
I guess that’s why I decided to call Clint up. He is the only person in my life that is solely my friend. Max has no influence on him.
So that’s how I end up standing outside this little café waiting on Clint to show up.
“Hey you, have you gotten your coffee yet?” Clint asks as he walks up.
“No, I was waiting for you,” I tell him.
“Come on then. You look like you need it,” he says as he opens the door to the coffee shop.
We head inside and place our orders. Much to his dismay, I pay for his coffee and mine.
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, though,” he says as we step outside.
“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do. You didn’t have to drop everything and come deal with my shit,” I tell him as we walk into the park.
“You’re my friend. I’m here when you need me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I love drama when it’s not my own.”
I laugh. “How have you been?”
“Good. You don’t need to do small talk. You can tell me what is bothering you,” he says bluntly.
“It makes me feel better to ease into it. Did you call the model?”
Clint winces. “I texted her and quickly regretted it. She wanted to know how large my investment portfolio was.”
“At least she showed her red flag early on, unlike the last one.”
“Very true, but enough about me. There isn’t much new going on. You obviously have something important to talk about.”
The barista delivers out drinks to us, giving me a moment to collect myself. I take a sip of my chai tea latte, postponing the hurt I know is about to come.
“You’ll feel better when you get it out,” he says, gently calling me out.
“Max…is an idiot.”
Clint chuckles and shakes his head. “I hate to break it to you, Iris, but most men are. Myself included.”
“He admitted he has feelings for me,” I confess.
“I thought that’s what we wanted him to do?”
“It is, but I have a problem with the way he did it,” I groan.
