He Forgot My Birthday for Her Anniversary Again Chapter 08

He Forgot My Birthday for Her Anniversary Again Chapter 08

“Skyler! Neither of us did anything wrong. 

Why would we keep our distance?” 

Brady didn’t agree with her at all. 

He turned to me. “Paige, if you’re mad I forgot. 

your birthday, fine, I’m sorry. But Skyler hasn’t done 

anything to you-” 

back. 

I was done wasting my time. 

I yanked my arm out of his grip. Stepped 

“Don’t apologize. Just leave me alone.” 

“Paige-” 

I didn’t let him finish. I flagged down a cab 

and left. 

The next afternoon, my old landlord called. 

Brenda sounded thrilled. “Paige, honey, your 

man bought my apartment. Paid top dollar. He 

says it’s for you. When can you come sign the 

papers?” 

“What?” 

“He didn’t tell you? He wants it to be your guys‘ future home. Asked me to reach out to you 

directly.” 

“Paige, every couple has little fights. Don’t throw away something good over small stuff.” 

I felt annoyance creep up my spine. 

“Brenda, Brady and I broke up. I’m not 

accepting any gift from him. Talk to him, not me. 

Please.” 

I hung up. Blocked her too. 

But Brady wouldn’t quit. 

For three days straight, he sent gifts through 

couriers. 

First day: the latest designer bag from my 

favorite brand. 

Second day: a set of the most hyped lipsticks 

on the market. 

Third day: a star–shaped necklace engraved 

with my initials. 

Under the ribbon was a 

handwritten note card. 

[I forgot your birthday three times. These are my makeup gifts. I’ll never forget again.] 

I read it, expressionless, and dropped the card 

in the trash. 

I was about to call the courier to return 

everything when a delivery guy walked in holding 

two familiar ice cream cakes. 

“Paige Morrison?” 

I hesitated, then walked over. “That’s me.” 

“These are from Mr. Harrington. Please sign.” 

On the cake box, another note card. 

[I ruined your cake that day. Here are two to make up for it. Stop being mad.] 

Then, at noon, a delivery from a five–star 

restaurant. 

Every dish was identical to the ones I’d made 

that night. 

No note card this time. Just a message from 

the driver, 

[Ms. Morrison, Mr. Harrington. 

says he knows he messed up. These are his 

apology dinner. He’s begging for your forgiveness.] 

My coworker saw all this. Her eyes went wide. 

“Paige, your boyfriend’s so sweet. Gifts, 

cakes, now lunch delivered? He really cares.” 

I didn’t smile. 

Because this wasn’t Brady’s style at all. 

Sure enough, a second later, Skyler texted me. 

“Paige, I’m teaching Brady how to apologize 

properly. Don’t stay mad at the big clueless guy.”