“Alright! I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Tell Brandon I said hey sugar pie.”
“Sugar pie?” I ask with a giggle.
“’Cause he’s a sweetheart,” Sophie adds before we say goodbye and hang up.
I unlock the apartment door, set my bag down, then head to our bedroom. I change into some yoga pants and a sleeveless shirt, then go to the kitchen where the dirty dishes are piled in the sink. Of f*****g course.
“Asshole,” I mutter, turning on the hot water and filling the bowls that have dried food in them. As if the ones he left me Monday weren’t bad enough, these dishes look months old, and I’m tempted to just throw them in the trash instead.
Once that’s done, I pull out the ingredients to make spaghetti and meat sauce. Trying to push my frustrations aside, I fill a large pot with water and wait for i
