“Phone,” Carmen says at my side, dropping my cell into my lap. “You might want to look at it.” I glance down, heart rate spiking at the name on the glass screen. Jackson: I’m sorry in advance. He’s sorry? What the hell does that mean? I mean, logistically, there are a lot of things he could be sorry for, starting with the two of us and ending with apologizing for who the hell knows what. Swiping my thumb across the screen to unlock the phone, I tap on my ex-husband’s text message and am promptly bombarded with text after text. Beaumont: Carter, man, did you add her? Harrison: Seconding that.
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