and he’s out. Two days shy of two months in. Almost two full months that I felt like I could go about my business unimpeded, and with that damn text (and the ten to twelve calls that came in from VINE), I once again find myself jumpy and antsy. I’ve just laid low.
He tried to call me, not even a full twelve hours after he bonded out, despite the protective order and the bond conditions. This was no accident, as he left his name and asked to be called back. Since that happened, Meghan Trainor’s “No” has been getting stuck in my head on a daily basis. The judge wasn’t too happy about that little bit, and from what I was told, admonished him in open court.
No court dates until the beginning of next month, and then it’s just to see who has what and if a plea can be reached. If one can’t be reached, off to trial we go. I just want things to hurry up and settle into a routine. Soon, though. Soon the apartment will be ready, we will be moved, and life will go on. It’ll just feel more ours and less shared.