“Have to travel to Montana with him!” I interrupt, standing to pace the room, knowing I can’t sit here any longer.
She turns on the couch to face me. “So, you have two questions to ask yourself. One, do you tell him who you are and then figure all of this out on your trip?” She makes googly eyes and shimmies her shoulders at me suggestively. “Or do you not respond and make him think this Jenelle chick ghosted him on day seven with zero explanation? That might absolutely break his heart because he was really starting to think that she might be the one, and he has true feelings for her, and he was just dying to meet the beauty behind the?—”
“You can stop now.”
She shrugs with a smug expression. “I’m just stating facts. It’s not my problem you don’t like said facts. Doesn’t mean you don’t need to hear them.” She reaches for my phone, enters mypasscode to swipe it on, and shows me his message. “This text right here is as genuine as they come. He’s being vulnerable to you. You should reciprocate because just last night, you felt the exact same way.”
“You’re forgetting one possibility.” I pause, waiting for her to finish my sentence, but when she doesn’t, I continue, “I can respond, giving him my number, and when he clicks it to call, he’ll realize it’s already in his phone as me, not Jenelle. Then he’ll remember he hates me, which, in turn, will make this trip we have to take extremely awkward.”
Just thinking about that makes my stomach ache and my chest tighten. I wave my hands in front of my face decisively. “Nope. No way. He can’t know. I can’t put myself through that on this trip.”
“So, you’re not going to tell him?”
“Nope.” I sit back down on my couch, pick up my food, and take a bite, feeling better about the entire situation now that I’ve made up my mind.
She stares at me in shock. “You’re just going to let him think Jenelle ghosted him?”
“Yep.”
“Zoe …” she deadpans, leveling her eyes at me.
“Macy …” I repeat her tone. “I know it sucks, but of all the scenarios, this is the best for right now. He’ll have no clue it was me, and we can go on about our lives, hating each other.”
“You do realize that just because he doesn’t know who you are, you know who he is. Those feelings you were feeling aren’t just going to go away.”
“Yes, they will. Watch me.” I take another bite with a smile on my face.
“If you say so …” She sits back on the couch, shaking her head.
I know she doesn’t agree with me, but I will make this work. I have no other choice.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
David
A fucked-up day led to an even more fucked-up night. I checked my phone, seeing that Jenelle hadn’t responded and questioning if I should message her again. When I realized it was day seven, my heart sank.
She was ghosting me.
She had decided I wasn’t good enough to want to get to know more.
I drove myself crazy, staying up way too late, in my own personal pity party, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I reread messages, wondering where I could have possibly screwed up to make her feel this way.
I’d really thought we had a solid connection, and for the life of me, I don’t understand why she wouldn’t want to continue this.
I walk to work while trying to forget about the girl I never knew, but who I thought I knew more than anyone I’d ever known—including my ex-fiancée.
When I get to the office building, Zoe is approaching at the same time. I internally roll my eyes, hoping she doesn’t see me because the last thing I need to deal with is her still being mad at me. She just needs to get over it. I saved the account and made sure they knew it was her idea. If anything, she should be thanking me.
I open the door, motioning for her to go first. She nods her thank-you, walking through without saying a word.
Well, that’s better than anything I’ve gotten before. Maybe today will be a better day.
We make our way to the elevator and join the others waiting. I’ve never been so happy about the amount of people in this building. I might have just taken the stairs if I had to ride this elevator with only her.
Once the door opens, we step in and go to opposite sides of the awkward box we’re all crammed in together.
Floor by floor, people walk off, leaving fewer and fewer people as our makeshift buffers. When it’s our time to exit, I give her the space she needs to leave first, then do so myself.
