Sunday

GABE FISHED HIS phone from the couch cushions the next morning before he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He flicked right past a missed call from an unknown number and a text from his mom to get to a text from Mark.

 

Sunday, 1:22 a.m.

Did I do something wrong?

 

Shit, that was worse than fighting. If Mark had been pissed off or upset, it would have been easier for Gabe to maintain the tenuous hold on his anger. Instead, Mark sounded pathetic, and Gabe felt like garbage. He should have ghosted.

Gabe took a deep breath and tried to pull any lingering anger to the forefront. He thought about the brunette with legs for days who had stepped out of Mark’s car. He was sure it was Mark’s car. Absolutely sure. Right?

 

Sunday, 10:19 a.m.

i saw your wife or girlfriend or whatever driving your car on friday

 

Gabe didn’t think it needed any more explanation. He turned Do Not Disturb off, tossed his phone on the couch, and went to find some breakfast.

His phone beeped before he pulled the eggs from the fridge. He knocked his shin painfully against the edge of his scratched up coffee table as he raced for it.

 

Sunday, 10:21 a.m.

Tall, dark hair, really attractive and well dressed?

 

Sunday, 10:22 a.m.

if u need me to remind u what ur wife looks like ur relationship is really bad

 

Instead of pretending to make breakfast again, Gabe stood in the narrow space between his couch and the coffee table, gripping his phone tightly.

The next text from Mark was a picture. It seemed to be a picture of a picture. It was obviously him but younger. Much younger. Like, high school young. He had his arm around a girl who might have been the woman Gabe saw on Friday. She was young too, not quite so tall yet, and she definitely had braces on her teeth.

 

Sunday, 10:24 a.m.

That’s my sister, you ass.

 

Before Gabe could process how wrong and how much of an ass he’d been, a string of texts flooded in.

 

Sunday, 10:24 a.m.

I can’t believe you jumped to that conclusion.

 

Sunday, 10:25 a.m.

You should have talked to me about it instead of throwing a goddamn temper tantrum.

 

Sunday, 10:25 a.m.

Why would you even think I’m hiding a wife or a girlfriend from you?

 

Sunday, 10:25 a.m.

We haven’t talked about anything yet. You might have someone else I don’t know about too.

 

Gabe wasn’t sure if the messages were going to stop, but he scrambled to send one of his own.

 

Sunday, 10:26 a.m.

i dont have anyone

 

Mark didn’t respond, but he didn’t keep yelling at Gabe over the messenger either. Maybe Gabe hadn’t jumped on the most important part of the conversation, but it seemed important for him to let Mark know he was single.

 

Sunday, 10:30 am

i’m sorry i saw your car and thought you lied to me. if you didn’t want to see me on friday, you could have said so. then i saw her get out of your car and i panicked.

 

Sunday, 10:31 am

sorry i’ve had bad experiences with guys on here being on the downlow

 

Gabe waited. And waited. It felt like forever. He gave up and went to make himself some pity eggs and toast when his phone pinged again.

 

Sunday, 10:35 a.m.

You should have talked to me.

 

That sounded…less angry. Not great, but less not-great. He could almost hear it in Mark’s voice.

 

Sunday, 10:36 a.m.

sorry

 

Gabe gently laid his phone on the coffee table. Well, that was that. No more hot sex in public restrooms, no more teasing messages back and forth, no more anticipation or excitement. No more Mark.

Even during his worst hangovers, he’d never been so miserable making himself breakfast.