The Barren Wasteland
He crossed to my desk, set the coffee down, and stood beside me — a steady, immovable presence.
“Who is that?” Michael demanded, paranoia flaring. “Are you with someone?”
I looked up into James’s warm, steady eyes.
“I’m with someone who would never ask me to swallow my own dignity to inflate his pride,” I said into the phone. “Don’t ever contact me again, Michael.
Lie in the bed you made.”
I ended the call. I blocked his number, then Diane’s, and let their sinking ship go down without me.