I make my way inside and sit on the couch in the lounge, my feet tucked under me and my phone in my hand as I scroll through social media. A shadow passes over me, and then Drifter perches on the opposite couch, his eyes fixed on me.
I sigh, keeping my attention on my phone. If I ignore him, maybe he’ll get bored and leave me alone.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“It’s all fine,” I mutter impatiently.
“And?” he pushes.
“And what?” I snap, glancing up. “You want the ins and outs of my appointment?”
“Well, it would be nice, Hell. After all, that’s my child too . . . and we’re still married.”
I scoff. “Not for much longer.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Wanna bet? The divorce papers are upstairs right now. I just need to sign them.”
I feel his eyes on me for a silent minute before he sighs heavily then pushes to his feet and stalks off to the bar area.
Bella takes his place, and Red sits on the arm of the chair beside me. “That looked . . . uncomfortable,” Red mutters.
“Every interaction with that prick is uncomfortable,” I reply.
I open my Tinder app with only one intention in mind—to make Drifter feel even an ounce of the pain I feel right now.
I installed the app a couple of days after my return. I haven’t done anything with it yet, given the fact I’m pregnant, hurting, and clearly on the rebound. It’s not like I can even think about having sex with another man right now as everything is complicated enough, but maybe playing a few mind games with Drifter will make him back the fuck off. And it wouldn’t hurt him to see I’m serious about us being over, that I’m moving forward without him.
Red peers over my shoulder, a smirk pulling at her lips. The dark, biker-looking guy on the screen has her laughing, and she swipes her finger over it. “Nope,” she says clearly. The next guy is clean-shaven with dark eyes. She swipes again, shaking her head. “Nah, he looks like a dick.”
I laugh too, arching a brow. “Have you seen what I married?”
She follows my eyes in the direction of Drifter, who’s at the bar with Gears, and we all laugh.
“Oh my god,” she says, grabbing the phone out of my hands. “He is perfect for you.”
I watch as she taps away on the screen. “Who the fuck are you setting me up with?”
She tips the screen for me to look at. The guy staring back is everything Drifter isn’t—fair-haired, clean-shaven, and he screams corporate nine-to-five.
I take the phone back and select some of his other images. His hair is intentionally messy, and it suits him. And when he smiles, he’s got cute dimples. He’s everything I wouldn’t usually go for, which makes him perfect.
A message pings on the screen, and my heart stutters. I open the chat to check what Red sent.
Me: Do you fancy being the rebound guy to a broken-hearted singleton?
I groan, bringing my eyes to Red, who smiles innocently. “Really, Red? Desperate much?”
She shrugs. “Well, you are.”
Damien: Thanks for sneaking into my inbox. Why don’t we go on a date and see if I can help?
Red peers over my shoulder again.
“Swoon,” she calls out, no doubt so Drifter can hear us. “I mean, you’d be crazy not to go on a date with him. He’s hot.”
I inhale, still eyeing Damien’s pictures. She’s right. What harm can it do?
