Page 75 of Dancing in the Dark

I sent you an email. Stop ignoring me.

I ignore her and move to the next.

Mia Moo Moo Fletcher:

hn8654 dh! Dh%#%F :o

Charlie Fletcher:

I don’t wanna sound all needy and shit, but will you come over for dinner tonight?

Charlie Fletcher:

I was listening when you told me what you wanted from us. You want communication and honesty and attention. Not ALL of my attention ALL of the time, but when it’s your turn, it’s your turn. I heard you when you said I already had too much going on, with work and Mia and stuff. This is me proving I can juggle it all. For you, and for Moo, I’ll juggle well, I promise.

Charlie Fletcher:

So… dinner? Moo wants to help cook.

Archer Malone:

Just checking in that everything is good after that shit with Markum. I’m not making it weird or talking about it, just letting you know you have options, since, according to Fletch, that asshole had his hands on you.

Archer Malone:

If you want this dealt with officially, but you want to take it to Fletch, then all good. He’s got your back. But if you wanna make your statement to someone who isn’t him, then you know where to find me. Also, my wife says you keep ignoring her. Stop. It hurts her feelings.

“Jesus.” I thumbs up his message, then I exit that chat and find Anderson’s name next.

Gross.

Anderson Markum:

I don’t want us to fight, Sera.

Last night got out of hand, I know, but I don’t want us to hate each other. We have way too much history together, and I really think we should honor that.

I’m truly, sincerely sorry for my actions back when everything went wrong. I know I’ve said it before, and I know those words don’t undo what happened.

But I’ll continue saying it as often as I can, and someday, I hope things can be better between us.

I have a bunch of work to do in my office today, which means I won’t be anywhere near City Hall. I want you to feel comfortable in your own workplace, and not like I might pop up at any moment.

I’m really sorry that my temper got the best of me last night. I had no right to turn up uninvited to your apartment, and I had no right to comment on the relationships you may or may not have with someone else now.

I’m committed to repairing the damage I’ve caused. I’ll conduct myself with nothing but respect and professionalism from now on, and though I’m sure you don’t believe me, I promise to behave the same re: Detective Fletcher.

I’ll understand if he wants to deck me the next time we’re face to face, but I’ll do what needs to be done to repair that damage, too.

Anyway. Have a great day.

I left Charlie’s home with a sweet bubbling of contentment tickling my stomach. But now, I feel dread and skepticism. Anderson’s words are, on the outside, exactly right. They’re remorseful and empathetic. They’re mature and responsible and, if read by a judge, they’d be received exactly how he intended them to be.

But I don’t believe a single word he typed, and because I don’t, that dread grows heavier. For anyone on the outside looking in, my disbelief likely paints me as the unreasonable one.

He’s good at that.

Shaking my head, I back out of our texts without replying, then, locking my screen, I open the top drawer of my desk and take out the thick, spiral-bound planner I keep as a backup to all the things I make digital. Hugging the book to my chest and picking up my coffee, I move around my desk and head toward Justin’s closed door. “I’ll be back in a while. Then we need to discuss tomorrow’s luncheon.”