Page 34 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

Monday at lunch, I turned my phone on to check my messages.

Not surprisingly, there was nothing from Gabe. Same as last night.

I’d predicted his response, although I wasn’t necessarily happy about being right.

I tried to offer myself some consolation.

I still had amazing sex over the weekend.

But the memory was tainted now.

I hadn’t expected him to greet my son with open arms; in fact, I’d never planned on them ever meeting. But the fact that they had, and he’d practically shunned my kid, spoke volumes.

I jumped in my seat when my phone rang in my hand.

The caller ID read Mitchell Cabinets, and my heart skipped a beat.

I wasn’t sure I even wanted to talk to him, but a part of me was glad that at least he hadn’t ghosted me completely—even if he was probably just calling to schedule a time to bring the last of the cabinets.

I had to have a little bit of masochist in me, because I decided to answer.

“Hello?”

A deep voice I recognized but wasn’t expecting said, “Is this Gretchen?”

“It is.”

“Hey, it’s Rick from Mitchell Cabinets and Woodworking. How are you today?”

That son of a bitch couldn’t even call me himself?!

I responded with a clipped, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“That’s great. Well, the reason I’m calling is to see if I can bring the rest of your cabinets by on my way home from work tonight. Say, five-thirty?”

“You’re going to bring them? By yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll have the company truck, so they’ll be easy to offload with a dolly.”

“Oh, I see.”

Why hadn’t Gabe done that to begin with? He probably could have delivered them all in one load.

Then he wouldn’t have had an excuse to come back.

And now he didn’t want to come back, so he left it to Rick, a dolly, and the company truck.

I wavered between being hurt and pissed—something I hadn’t experienced since my divorce proceedings, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, that’s fine, Rick. I should be home by then.”

Before I hung up, I wanted to add, And tell your boss to fuck off, but I was at school and didn’t want to risk being overheard.

But I hoped my snippy tone conveyed the sentiment.

*** *

Gabe

I felt a twinge in my gut on Tuesday morning when I flipped on the light in the shop and noticed the empty space where her cabinets used to be.

I was a chicken shit, plain and simple.

Or an asshole.

Maybe both.

I’d had Rick call her to schedule a drop off time yesterday, and I didn’t even have the decency to be the one to deliver them.

The Mitchell Men Therapy Session had yielded mixed results, at best.

We’d had a good sob session about Bodhi, where my brothers all talked about their memories of my little man. It had been painful, yet cathartic

I still didn’t understand God’s plan or whatever bullshit people spew when a tragedy strikes, but I did accept it was out of my control, and it wasn’t my fault.

Something I thought I’d worked through but the more I talked with my brothers and nephew, I realized the wound had still been there, festering.

So, in that regard, my brothers’ visit had been helpful. But when it came to Gretchen, I ended up feeling worse. Maybe, in part, because I hadn’t been completely honest with how I felt about her.

But by the end of the afternoon, I came to the conclusion that she and I had been a fling, nothing more. And it was in both our best interests to steer clear of each other.

Hence, the reason I made Rick deal with her .

That didn’t mean I didn’t pounce on Rick the second he walked through the door Tuesday morning.

“How’d it go with Gretchen Wainwright?”

I hadn’t divulged how exactly I’d convinced her to take possession of the majority of the cabinets over the weekend, so I couldn’t act like she and I were on a first-name basis.

“Fine.”

Fine? What the fuck does “fine” mean?

“Did she say anything to you?”

“I didn’t even see her. When I pulled up to the house, the garage door started to go up, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. I saw where you’d put the other cabinets, so I just put the ones I had next to them. I noticed the door go down as I drove away.”

“And she didn’t come out to talk to you?”

He cocked his head and looked at me like I was stupid.

“I literally just said I didn’t see her.”

“Right. Right. I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any problems.”

“Did something happen this weekend that would have led you to believe there would be?”

I replied quickly, “No. No. There were no problems. It was fine. Everything was fine. No problems.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“You okay, boss?”

I took a deep breath through my nose.

No, I’m not okay. I’ve slept like shit the last two nights, and when I am awake, all I can think about is her.

I offered my foreman a weak smile. I knew I sounded like a crazy man. Probably because that’s how I felt .

“All good. The lumber shipment should be here at two, so make sure you’re around to doublecheck the quality when they offload it.”

I didn’t wait for his reply, just slid my safety glasses down from where they’d been on top of my head, turned the miter saw back on, and prayed I was able to focus enough to keep from losing a finger.