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Chapter Twelve
Zoe
I set up three alarms on my phone, all within fifteen minutes of each other. The casserole was still bubbling away in the oven. I tried to block out the low-level bickering between Bella and Harry and carried on making sandwiches for sack lunches for tomorrow. I needed to be organized. I needed to be at work on time. My job and my kids' futures depended on it.
"It's my turn for the TV, Harry," Bella whined.
"My cartoon is not finished yet," Harry argued.
"Yes, it did. You put a different one on."
"I didn't like the first one."
"Harry, give Bella the TV remote," I called throwing their clothes for tomorrow into the washing machine.
"No fair," Hary protested. "She got to watch her show."
"Give me," Bella screeched, that ear-piercing, migraine-inducing screech that set my teeth on edge. "Give me. Give me. Give me."
The walls vibrated as Mrs Carlton from next door hammered on them.
"
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Greyson's POVI leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers rhythmically against my desk, my eyes fixed on my computer monitor. I'd read the same line of code seven times. Zoe's cruel words rang through my head on a loop crushing my concentration.That Greyson. I scoffed to myself. I am that Greyson. Zoe is the one who had changed. Not me. Zoe was nothing like the woman I had in my head who I'd planned my life with and she was nothing like the smart, feisty, fiery girl who I remembered from school.And how would she even know what I was like in school? She barely spoke to me. A smile and eye contact was the most I could look forward to. I could count on one hand the number of times she spoke to me.I still remembered the very first words she uttered to me. We were eight years old. She was playing tag with a girl called Samantha, a chubby girl with a face full of freckles and large brown eyes. She ducked backwards out of Samantha's reach and tumbled right into me knocking my glasses o
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