Probably not. It’sSunday night and he’s probably flying back home to Texas with his two cousins.They’re probably talking about the convention, not girls.
I wonder how faraway he lives from me. I wonder how many other guys are as handsome and sweetand good at making out, and what my odds are of meeting one.
Then, because I’mcompletely unable to hold back any longer, I grab my tablet off the nightstandand go to Google. I typeGabe real estateagentand hit search.
The results are inthe millions, so I addTexasto thesearch bar and try again. I filter through pages, not really reading the wordsbut more looking at the pictures. An hour goes by, and then two. Then it’s wellafter midnight and I haven’t found a single mention of the Gabe I met inPhoenix. Maybe that’s a sign, I tell myself.
Maybe I’m not meantto find him again.
Chapter 12
Saturday goes by ina blur. I hit up all the panels I wanted to see, have a few meetings withpotential clients, and wrangle my cousins every time they want to slip off tothe bar instead of pay attention to the conference like I’m paying them to do. Justafter lunch, there’s a slight crisis back home at the office, and my assistant Janiecalls me freaking out because she can’t find a seller’s disclosure on a houseshe’s showing in my absence.
I somehow get itall handled, and make some great new connections, and I look and act just likea normal guy who has his shit together. But I am so far from that.
Every room I walkinto, every hallway I turn down – I’m always looking for her. I’ve kept hernametag, not because I’m a creep, but because I can give it back to her when Ifind her again. I had wanted to go back to her hotel room this morning, underthe lie that I was simply handing back her nametag and not trying to see her again,but I chickened out.
The gorgeous womanI’d spent an amazing night with was gone when I woke up, and she didn’t leave anote, so I’m smart enough to know that she wouldn’t want me knocking on herhotel room door.
So instead, I hopedto run into her today. It didn’t happen. And I kept my eyes peeled. I’ve neverbeen so observant in my life, and if Alexa had walked anywhere near me, I wouldhave seen her.
Disappointed,dejected, and feeling a little bit heartbroken, I finally relent to my cousinsand go to the hotel bar with them after Saturday’s convention comes to an end.This ache in my chest is persistent, and something I haven’t felt in years. Butthe feeling—the pain—is like riding a bike. You never forget it. It’sheartache, as stupid as it sounds.
I met her one dayago, hooked up with her last night, and yet I’m hurting. Ifanyof my friends knew I’d let myselfget hurt over a less than 24 hour fling, they’d be demanding to take mymetaphorical “Man Card.” I tuck away the pain with a glass of whiskey and hidemy thoughts with conversations about business instead.
My jackass cousins aredoing better. They even –dare I say it—paid attention during some of thepanels. Maybe there’s hope for them after all. There was a time when I thought theirineptitude didn’t matter, because their success at selling properties was theirown issue, but now I realize it does matter. If they’re going to represent thebrand my grandfather built, they’re going to respect it. I can’t have employeesmaking us look bad. Legacies aren’t built on lazy frat boys who only got theirjobs thanks to nepotism.
“Thanks for coming,guys,” I tell them. “I’m glad we can work together to help the company grow.”
“Sure beats havingsome stranger as a boss,” Jeremy says, taking a long sip of his Jack and Coke.
I chuckle. I stillthink they’re idiots, but they’re my idiots so I need to keep them on the rightpath.
A woman walks by ina maroon dress and my heart seizes up in my chest for the slightest second,until I realize it’s not her. It’s just some random woman, not the one I’vebeen looking for all day. I finish my drink and tell the guys I’m heading tobed early.
My hotel room feelsempty and sad without her in it. The pillow she slept on still smells like her,like summer and vanilla all wrapped up in one. But I do have some dignity left,so I don’t cuddle with the pillow or anything. I smell it once and then leaveit alone and order pizza delivery while I watch TV until well past midnight.
I’m exhausted, butI’m hoping I’ll hear from her. I keep her nametag on my nightstand, ready forwhen she knocks on my door to ask if she accidentally left it here.
The knock nevercomes.
Sunday stretches byslower than ever. Something tells me she’s not even here anymore, but thatdoesn’t stop me from looking for her. She was the best night of my life. Andnow she’s a mystery.
I pretend to sleepon the flight home, just so everyone will leave me alone. In my mind, I relivethose precious moments with the girl of my dreams. Her sexy curves and softskin, the feel of her lips on mine. The way she grinned at me over dinner, thatcoy and playful light in her dark brown eyes.
Everything aboutthis woman turned me on. She’s not like the typical woman I meet. They’realways needy and clingy and seem to be trying too hard. No guy wants to wait anhour for a woman to get ready for a date. No guy thinks it’s cute when they gothrough your phone and complain about the women in your contacts list. Alexadidn’t seem like that type of woman. She was sweet and kind and trusting. Thekind of girl you’d never get tired of seeing every morning when you wake up andevery night when you go to sleep.
My assistantmanages my social media profiles for the real estate company, but I log ontothem once I get back home. I check all the messages and comments and likes,hoping that maybe Alexa sought me out and tried to connect with me online.
There’s nothing.
I even check thetrash folder in case something got deleted or marked as spam. It is clear thatAlexa has not reached out to me. And although I left her nametag in my hotelroom because I didn’t want to be weird and take it home like some kind ofnotch-on-my-bedpost souvenir, I still remember what it said.
Sweets Bakery
There can’tpossibly be more than one Alexa who owns a place called Sweets Bakery and livesin Texas. I go to the search bar and type it in, and my suspicions are correct.
There’s just oneAlexa and one Sweets Bakery in Texas.
