Beautiful Terror (Burn It All Down Duet #2)

125. Back-Burner Barbie Strikes Again

CHAPTER 125

BACK-BURNER BARBIE STRIKES AGAIN

MARGAUX

I t’s late in the evening when Timmy hands me his phone, a message lighting up the screen.

Worst:

I’m here on the island. It’s your evil twin.

I freeze, staring at the words.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. She’s back. Back-Burner Barbie.

The clingiest of prior hookups, the human equivalent of a mosquito that doesn’t know when to quit. And now, she’s trying to slither back into Timmy’s life. Again.

I’ve spent so much time and effort on this so-called fresh start. Moving away with him from his old bad influences, away from toxic environments. Not that it’s stopped him from finding new bad influences, but still.

Messica was specifically asked to stay out of his life. He made it clear. But does she respect boundaries? Of course not. And now I’m discovering that he’s kept this from me for two weeks.

“She left a voicemail on my birthday,” he says, his tone annoyingly casual, like this revelation isn’t a bombshell.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I demand, my voice rising.

He shrugs. “I knew you’d act like this.”

Oh, fantastic. Not only did he hide this from me, but now he’s trying to paint me as the bad guy. Typical. I feel the heat of anger bubbling beneath my skin, threatening to boil over.

I’m starting to realize that neither of them must have very many friends. Their friendship is highly toxic.

Hell, maybe she’d be a better fit for him. Maybe they deserve each other.

Two miserable, toxic messes, hellbent on destruction of themselves and everyone around them.

“She’s not respecting your boundaries,” I say through gritted teeth. “You told her not to message you, and here she is. Again. Sending you selfies of the two of you, which is frankly weird. ”

“Yeah, it is weird,” Timmy agrees. “It’s not okay for her to be doing it.”

“So, did you block her?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Are you going to?” I quirk a brow.

“No.”

I blink, stunned. “Um, why not? ”

He’s refusing to block Slutterfly? Why?

“She’s insane,” he says, as if this explains everything. “If I block her, she’ll just start calling me from weird numbers. She’ll know she’s been blocked.”

“You can’t tell when you’re blocked.” His response makes no sense whatsoever.

“Yeah, you can,” he insists. “The messages turn green instead of blue.”

“Why do you care what she thinks?”

“I don’t,” he snaps. “I just don’t want to deal with it. I knew you’d act like this when I told you she reached out.”

“How did you expect me to react, Timmy?”

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “ Your ex reached out to you .”

I roll my eyes so hard I can almost see the back of my skull. “Someone I haven’t spoken to in nine years , who lives on the other side of the country , and whom I promptly told to fuck off. ”

He’d reached out to tell me he found an item of my clothing at his place. To which I’d wanted to reply that maybe he should clean his house more often. Instead, I’d dismissed him completely and blocked him.

“That’s a little different from some… person you hooked up with last year who’s now conveniently staying less than an hour away and wants to hang out .”

“It’s pretty similar,” he says, shrugging.

“It’s… not at all similar !” I snap, feeling my blood pressure spike. “The two things don’t compare at all!”

“And you don’t have to worry about her,” he says smugly. “She’s annoying as fuck. She’s basically banned from every bar and restaurant in town. She’s a mess, and I want nothing to do with her. Still, you need to stop being such a hypocrite with your ex texting you.”

I feel like I’m losing my mind. “If you told me straight away that she had messaged you and left a voicemail, I wouldn’t have been upset, because that’s out of your control. What I am upset about is that you deleted the voicemail, kept it from me for two weeks, and let her cross this line and now you’re not blocking her.”

“Well, I knew you’d be upset.”

“No,” I counter. “I’m upset with Matty for supposedly giving her your number after you changed it to block her. But honestly? I don’t know what to believe anymore. For all I know, you gave her your number yourself.”

His face flickers for a moment, a shadow of guilt. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. He’s mastered the art of keeping just enough plausible deniability. He’s blaming Matty, but I don’t know what to believe anymore. For all I know, he didn’t block her on all social media—maybe he is the one who gave her his number.

Either way, the damage is done. I feel sick to my stomach. All the time, love, and financial resources I’ve poured into him, and this is the thanks I get? He wants to keep talking to someone who doesn’t respect his boundaries, who clearly has no respect for me?

I’m so disgusted, I may never eat again.

I glance at his face and catch something that chills me to my core. It’s not a full smirk, but it’s close.

Is he enjoying this? Does he like seeing me upset, thinking I’m jealous?

The truth is, I’m not jealous about Leftover Lucy. I’m pissed. I’m angry that someone who actively disrespects him—and by extension our relationship—is allowed any access to him.

I told Timmy immediately when my ex contacted me. I even showed him the message I sent back telling the guy to get lost.

But Timmy? He’s all about creating false equivalencies. He acts like my ex—someone I haven’t spoken to in a decade —is somehow the same as his recent hookup sending him selfies and texts saying she’s nearby.

The constant double standard of expectations for my and his behavior drives me nuts.

I feel the resentment clawing its way up my throat. He told me he didn’t want to drag me down. But I’ve introduced him to successful, kind people. He’s introduced me to an abusive drug dealer, a jobless mooch, and the meth addicts on the beach. I’ve taken him to nice restaurants, and he’s thrown food I’ve bought for us in the trash.

And now? Now, I’m terrified. Terrified that he’ll keep dragging me lower and lower until there’s nothing left of me—no savings, no job, no self-esteem.

And then?

Then he’ll run off to someone else, leaving me in the rubble of the life I built before he came along.

I talk to my therapist about it. “He says this situation is the same as my ex texting me, and it’s driving me insane. ”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “That’s apples and oranges. Those two situations are nothing alike.”

“That’s what I thought! But he’s so adamant…”

She sighs. “It sounds like he’s trying to make you question yourself, to deflect the blame. And honestly? It sounds like he’s enjoying the chaos.”

I nod, feeling validated for the first time in days. Of course, that’s exactly what he’s doing. Triangulating. Stirring the pot. Keeping himself entertained by my discomfort.

But instead of feeling jealous, I just feel… disappointed and grossed out.

Disappointed that this is the man I chose to share my life with—a man who thrives on chaos and refuses to protect the sanctity of our relationship.

Grossed out that he seems not to be at all picky about the women he sleeps with—god knows what he’s been doing each time he’s left for hours.

He swears he’s never cheated on me, and that he never would—but I know he’s cheated on at least one girlfriend before, and he tends to make everything someone else’s fault.

Back-Burner Barbie can have him. Let her.

I’m beginning to see that Forgetabelle and Timmy deserve each other— a perfect pair of self-absorbed, ugly disasters.