Text Appeal

“Breakup?” I ask, clueless as can be.

He nods stiffly. “Ava’s done the job for us with that kiss. No one thinks we’re getting back together now. You and I can stop with the fake dating.”

“You want to discuss our breakup?”

“Yeah.”

All of the good feelings scatter. “Huh.”

Having dropped this bombshell, Connor gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He walks with his head down, those thick shoulders sitting higher than normal. As if he knows he might need some protection. It takes a minute for him to notice me watching. “What?” he asks, nonchalant as fuck.

“Did you seriously just give me break-up oral sex?”

He shrugs.

“You knew you wanted to bring an end to our agreement and yet you initiated intimacy with me anyway,” I say. “Doesn’t that seem sort of sketchy to you?”

“There’s no need for us to keep pretending we’re together and we agreed we were only hooking up temporarily, right?” he asks. “But I just…I wanted to thank you for today.”

“And oral sex says it better than a gift card, apparently.” My laughter is wholly lacking in humor. “Wow, Connor. You know, some people might be upset by that sort of thing. You springing this on me a full minute after making me come. But it’s okay. I see what you were trying to do.”

His smile is full of relief. The idiot.

I smooth down my dress. “You’re not concerned that if we breakup right now, people will think it’s because of that kiss? That you saw Ava moving on and this is just some last-ditch effort to get her back?”

“No,” he says. And that’s all he says.

“Do you want to maybe elaborate on that answer?”

Another shrug. No wonder he wouldn’t look at me earlier. There’s a lot going on in his eyes. So many emotions. He stands on the other side of the room to me with his arms crossed and his face set. To think, he was eating me like I was his last meal a moment ago. Now he can’t put enough distance between us.

“We could, ah, say we fought about something?” he suggests, pushing his hair back from his beautiful face.

“I don’t know if that would be believable. We’ve fought about several things and managed to work it out like adults.”

He frowns. “Well, if we’re fighting all the time, maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

“But we don’t fight all the time, do we?”

“You know what I mean.”

I don’t, but whatever. Time to stand tall and take the pain. It’s partially my own fault for getting carried away. For thinking his smiles and his honesty and the way he held me meant something. His acting skills have come a long way since we started. The man had me convinced today.

“Though this is all beside the point and you mean theoretically, of course,” I say. “Because we were never really together, right?”

“Right. It wasn’t real.”

“No.” I paste on a smile. “It’s not like us hooking up meant anything either.”

“Last night was great. But it was just a bit of fun, Blue.”

“So much fun. Probably best if you stop calling me that,” I say in my best calm tone. “We need to indicate to people that we’re no longer as close and trusting of each other as we once were.”

“Sure.” His brows descend. “That makes sense.”

“Now the agreement was that we would separate in a polite and civilized fashion. But given how into each other we were pretending to be just five minutes ago, we’re going to need a story to sell the separation. We want something believable, but nothing too harmful in the long term to either of us, reputation wise or whatever.”

“Sounds good.”

“I think we should say that you had an attack of the nerves and broke it off. That you weren’t ready for another relationship and were scared by how good we were together and wanted some space. How does that sound to you?”

“I don’t know…”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing time for yourself. Wanting to work out just what it is you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You don’t want to make me look bad, right?”

“No.” He grabs the back of his neck. “Of course not. Are you angry at me?”

“Why would I be angry?” I ask. “We both knew going into this situation that things could get complicated. Best for you to run away now and we can go back to being friends sometime in the distant future when things have settled down.”

“Run away?”

“Walk. Of course, I meant walk.” I fetch my cell and start typing. “Alrighty then…”

“What are you doing?” he asks. And I am not imagining the worry in his voice.

“Texting Ana Rosa. We met at the cook-off today. I think it would be best if we sent out an official sort of message and got ahead of any gossip and speculation. And she knows everyone and talks to everyone so sending the news out through her seems sensible.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Not a single word.

“How does this sound? So great to meet you today. You asked about dinner with Connor and me next week. But he decided he’s not ready for a relationship so we broke up.” I exhale. “And it’s sent. That’s done. Thank goodness it’s over, right?”

He grunts.

My cell chimes and oof. Ana Rosa doesn’t mess around. A string of messages soon appear on screen. Connor’s cell starts beeping a moment later. His forehead fills with furrows as his texts spiral out of control.

“It was bound to happen whenever and however we did this. People in this town love to get involved and have an opinion.” There’s a small chance I am experiencing a smidgeon of guilt for throwing him in the deep end. But like any and all feelings for the man—it will pass.

“Guess I’ll get another new number,” he says.

“Not a bad idea.”

He stares at me and I stare at him and nothing happens. He doesn’t say anything or do anything. It would seem his hard-won communication skills have regressed. But there’s nothing I can do about that.

I ignore the itching in my eyes. “You should probably go. It would be weird for you to still be here when the announcement has gone out.”

“Yeah,” he says, but he just stands there.

“This is what you wanted, right? Connor?”

“This was the plan.” He sighs. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Might be best to give each other some space for a while. For credibility.”

He nods. “Thanks, Riley. For everything.”

“Sure.”

Then he does it again. He stares at me for the longest moment. As if there’s something he wants to say. But apparently, he decides not to. Off he goes. Down my hallway, through my front doorway, and out of my life.

I open the door at nine that night with a bottle of wine in hand. Using a glass honestly seemed like too much trouble. There’s a purity of intent to drinking straight from the source in times of trouble. Something my poor sore heart has decided to admire.

Ava pushes past me demanding, “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I have been trying to call you for the last hour!”

“I turned it off. It was making too much noise and I found myself unable to meet its demands on this particular occasion.”

“Hello, Riley,” says Katja with a gentle smile.

“Hey. Drinks are in the fridge. Help yourselves.” I return to my prime position on the couch. So comfortable in my nest of cushions. Pride and Prejudice plays in silence on the screen. It’s not like I don’t know all of the words already. Just watching Lizzy and Darcy soothes my sad and sorry soul. “I already ate all of the cheese. But there should be some breakfast cereal in the pantry if you’re hungry. Might even be ice cream in the freezer.”

“Looks like you’ve had enough alcohol for all of us,” says Katja.

Ava stands with her hands on her hips. “What happened?”

“Hmm?” I down some wine. “What happened with what?”

“Why does everyone think you and Connor have broken up?”

“Because we have.”

“Why?” Ava barks.

I scowl. “It was his idea. Go shout at him.”

“He’s not my friend,” Ava says. “Not yet. But you are and you don’t have a lot of other people in town so talk to me.”

“It’s complicated.”

Katja sits next to me on the couch and picks up my hand. Her voice is far gentler than her girlfriend’s. “What happened, Riley? I saw you from up on the stage. You two seemed so happy together.”

“Yeah. We did, didn’t we? But then I guess we weren’t.”

“Lu said something about him wanting space?” asks Ava, using her inside voice this time.

I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. He just…”

Lizzy and Darcy dance on screen and every other character in the movie disappears. No one else exists for them at that moment. It’s a beautifully symbolic scene. How attraction and emotions take over when you find the one. Reason doesn’t stand a chance against romance. She doesn’t like him, and he doesn’t want to like her, and yet they’re drawn to each other in a way they’re unable to resist.

“It’s my own fault really,” I say, still staring at the screen.

Katja strokes my hand. “Why do you think that?”

“My feelings got away from me. He’s so hot and funny and such a good listener and great in bed and…” I take a deep breath. “I knew it wasn’t, but it seemed so real there for a minute.”

“What do you mean, Riley?” asks Katja.

Shit. What the hell am I saying? “Nothing. Ignore me. I’m drunk.”

“You said it seemed real, but you knew it wasn’t?”

“Um. No, I—”

Katja cocks her head. “Wait a minute. Were you two just pretending to be together?”

“No, no, no. Don’t take it literally,” my mouth babbles. “You can’t do that. It’s not what I meant. What I was trying to say is, um, you know when you’re maybe seeing someone and like the feelings are fire and the sex is great, and you’re obsessed and all, but you’re not sure if, um, they’re on the same level as you with wanting to be with someone and that same sort of thing for instance?”

“What did you even just say?” asks Ava with a wrinkled nose.

“There’s no need to panic.” Katja pats my hand. “We won’t tell anyone you and Connor weren’t really dating.”

Ava sits her tight ass on my coffee table. “Holy shit. You and Connor were fake dating? That’s what you meant?”

In a valiant attempt to hide from my own idiocy, I raise my forearms in front of my head. Given I’m still holding the wine bottle, this means I conk myself in the forehead like a champion. Because a self-induced head injury is exactly what tonight needed. “Ow.”

“Give me that.” Ava takes the bottle from me.

“He’s going to be so pissed,” I whisper. “I promised to never tell anybody. Now everything will be extra specially fucked.”

Katja sighs. “We’re not going to tell anybody.”

“Don’t make any promises I can’t keep.” Ava takes a mouthful from the bottle. “Room temperature white wine. You really know how to wallow in style. I have to admit, you two had me going. You seemed so glued at the hip and he was all territorial about you. He always seemed to be watching, making sure no one hurt your delicate little feelings. Then there was that whole public sex scene at the bar during my welcome home party. I don’t even know what to say about that.”

“The fingering fiasco was an accident. Totally unintended.”

She gives me a look of much judgment. Just so much of the stuff. “All of this just to get rid of me.”

“To be honest, us pretending to be together was more about convincing the town than you,” I say, prodding the rising bump on my forehead. “Your return got everyone fired up and hassling him anew, and he just wanted everyone to move on and leave him the hell alone.”

A line appears between her brows. “Can’t really blame him for that. I want to, but…yeah. You obviously weren’t that fake if you’re this much of a mess. Look at you.”

I just sigh. “I am an idiot.”

“Yeah,” says Ava. “There’s a variety of reasons I kept running back to him year after year. I can’t exactly fault your taste.”

Katja gives her girlfriend a long look. “What are you going to do, Liebling?”

“You mean am I going to tell?” Ava smirks. “The town could feed off this gossip for years. As scandals go, it would be right up there with Noah leaving his bride standing at the altar a few summers back. You never saw someone run so fast in your life. The high school really missed out not having him try out for track team back in the day.”

“Liebling.”

Ava groans. “Fine. No. I should tell everyone just to teach you a lesson, but I won’t because I am apparently the better friend. Your secret’s safe with me, Riley.”

“Thanks.” I sniff. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, God, don’t start crying. We’re not that close.”

With a smile, Katja reaches for the remote. “Why have you got it muted? I love this movie.”

Ava settles on the couch too and takes another drink from my bottle of wine. Guess she doesn’t mind room temperature so much. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

“What do you mean?” asks Katja.

“It’s a pity we’re heading back home tomorrow. She’s officially single in Port Stewart for the first time ever. Fresh blood in the local dating pool will cause a feeding frenzy. This is going to be fun.”

Monday comes with a terrible headache from all of the crying and the wine. Which makes it a good time to bunker down and hide from the world. My cell stays turned off and I am not home to callers. I don’t even go near the windows. Just lie on my bed and read romance books along with taking the occasional nap.

But by Tuesday I am back to normal. Sort of. I have a book to write, and the words are flowing. Heartbreak and angst fuel my writing just fine, apparently. Work is a great thing. When I am busy writing, I don’t miss him half as much. It’s when I stop for the day and the emptiness of my apartment presses in that things go downhill. I’ve received plenty of text messages, but none from him. And I know full and well that’s what we decided, but his absence hurts.

I only knew the man for a week. This is ridiculous.

The thing is…we had an agreement and he lived up to it. Whatever reason he had for abruptly ending said agreement is none of my business. Not really. Or at least that’s what I am telling myself. As pretty as bitterness looks on me, I have decided to leave my heartbreak in the past. An article said you get a week of grieving for every month a relationship lasts. By this calculation I should be about ready to move on. Though the idea of dating anyone ever again makes me want to hurl.

But the heart is a deeply stupid organ. Just as idiotic as can be. I maybe shouldn’t have this opinion, what with being a romance writer. Though I am pretty sure it will pass and I’ll be back in love with the idea of love in no time. Such is life.

The mystery baked goods left on my doorstep helped. You can’t beat sugar and carbs for a high. No card or name on the box. I called Jamal at the bakery, and he didn’t have a clue who might have left them for me. While caution would suggest not eating food when you don’t know the provenance, they were chocolate cupcakes. Reason and self-control only go so far. Joyce sent over her son, the buff bald one, midmorning with hash cookies. He assured me neither he nor his mother knew anything about them. Though he did compliment the cakes on their moist texture. He then asked me on a date, which I declined. However, we had a nice chat about the family business.

Pastor Mike stopped by to console and convert me. He too got declined. Brian visited for reasons unknown, since I don’t open the door for assholes. Life is just too short for that shit. Harold the fisherman and Diane with the pearls both insisted on hugging me when I went out for coffee, while the barista gave me a consolatory high five.

Standing by the counter at the Coffee House, waiting for my caffeinated beverage, it felt as if every eye in the room was on me. And there was a very good reason for that. Because every eye in the room was on me. For the second week running, me and my love life (or lack thereof) were the talk of the town. Even the dude who delivered my groceries offered his sympathies and patted my hand. Awkward as fuck.

A still-warm container of mac and cheese sat waiting for me Wednesday morning. It arrived sometime between seven and eight. Curiosity had me checking the doorstep when I first woke and there’d been nothing. However, an hour later, my nose led me to the delivery of cheesy goodness. Someone was sending me comfort food and it looked homemade, but by who?

Noor stopped by with a beautiful cross-stitch that said “calm your tits.” She encouraged me to cry on her shoulder and speak smack about Connor. But I was done with tears and didn’t have much to say. Not about him. However, she confirmed it wasn’t her or Martha sending me sustenance. They’d been busy fighting the good fight. Someone was trying to have books removed from the library. Noor described it as being smallminded bullshit, which sounded about right to me. They were busy planning a banned books day to celebrate diverse reading. And the way this was irritating certain factions in town was absolutely giving them life.

Thursday morning, I wake up early with a plan. Some people might find my behavior extreme. Sitting by the door for over an hour, listening for any hint of a noise from out in the hallway. But one way or another I am solving this mystery.

The sound of footsteps come and go several times. Either accompanied by the squeak of the stairs or the sound of the lift. However, no one comes near my end of the hall. Maybe my cook took the day off or moved on with their life. Decided cupcakes and mac and cheese is more than sufficient to express their sympathies for my suffering.

But wait. A shadow passes by, blocking the little line of light beneath the bottom of the door. This is it. I leap into motion, throwing the door open and jumping to my feet.

And there, standing in the hallway, is the secret benefactor of my comfort food.

“Lulu?” I ask in surprise.

“Hey,” she says, nonplussed. She’s dressed in a jean skirt and a sage green tee. Her school bag is on her back, and something wrapped in a Port Stewart kitchen towel is in her hands. “It’s pizza bread today.”

“Thanks. You’ve been cooking for me?”

“As if.” She snorts and hands me the package.

“Your mother?”

“No.”

“Then who?” I ask in a slightly loud tone of voice. “What the hell is going on?”

“Duh. Uncle Con’s been paying me to deliver stuff to you.”

“Connor cooked these?” My heart is not returning to life like Frankenstein’s monster. Something else is happening. Something wholly unrelated to Connor and his cooking and the way he’s still looking out for me. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure. He offered me $5 at first, but I held out for $20,” she says with a smile. “You’re not getting back together, are you? Can you at least wait till next week? There’s this game coming out I want to get and I need another thirty.”

“Why do it anonymously?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you supposed to be telling me this?” I ask.

“He only paid for delivery. If he didn’t want me to open my mouth, he should have paid more.”

“Right.” I stare off at nothing. Perplexed is a good word for this sort of occasion. “Why dump me if he’s just going to send me food? I mean…I guess he wants to be friends. But three dishes in the space of like three and a half days. Doesn’t that seem a little extreme to you?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. But you’re a sucker for eating them.”

“Why?”

“They’re all recipes out of a book he borrowed off Mom. She got it back when I was little and wouldn’t eat my veggies. Like the chocolate cupcakes had zucchini in them. Can you believe that?” she asks. “There’s blended squash, cauliflower, and carrots in the mac and cheese. And the sauce in the pizza bread has pureed spinach mixed in with the tomato.”

“That’s diabolical.”

“Right?”

“Tasted really good though.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “That’s how they got me too. I have to get to school. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I hug my pizza bread to my chest. “Okay.”

“Unless I see you tonight.”

“Why would you see me tonight?”

She pauses at the top of the stairs with a sly sort of smile. “Dad was talking about dragging Uncle Con out to the Lighthouse. You know. The place across the street?”

My mouth stays shut.

“After Christmas he was like all cranky and quiet. But now it’s like someone sucked his soul out or something.”

“Is that so?”

“Ugh. He’s been so cringe. Adults behaving all sad and pathetic are the worst.”

“Totally.”

“I am never getting old and dodgy like you.”

I just nod. “Okay. Thanks for that.”

“You know,” she says, cocking her head. “I could maybe give you daily updates. Tell you stuff that’s been said.”

“For the right amount of money?”

“Duh. Of course. Thirty should cover it.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Not sure encouraging you to spy on your family is the right course of action here.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ava would have paid me.”

“Probably.”

“Whatever. Your loss.” And she’s gone, racing off down the stairs.

Shanti mentioned something about a weekly games night at the Lighthouse. Had invited me to join her there tonight. Not that I am going to go. What with him most likely going to be there, it would be weird and awkward. No. Best if I stay home and rewatch Pride and Prejudice again.

Decision made. And I feel good about it. Him sending me food packed full of nutritional goodness may or may not mean something. It’s a whole lot of effort to go to for someone you don’t want to be with. He chose to break up with me. So giving it some time and space is definitely the right thing to do.