It sure as fuck wasn’t amicable—I’m still not over her. Still, I clickneither.
Question 2: Which best describes your current relationship status?
Single
Married
It’s complicated
It’s definitely complicated, but I clicksingle.
After ten more questions, my quiz results suggest I’m the “hung-up on your ex” ex-boyfriend. I didn’t need an online test to tell me that. Biggest waste of time.
Olivia needs more than a bullshit grand gesture the internet conjured up. At any point in the last decade, I could’ve reached out or walked away from the path to public office to be with her. I thought I was fine, that I’d moved on, until I heard her voice. All of the clichés meshed together at once, just like it did when I first talked to her all those years ago. I need to be smart about this. She’s coming here in a few months, and if I have any say in it, she’ll be mine before the time she leaves. I don’t know how, but I’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and I’m not going to squander it.
After a good night’s sleep—or as best as one can have while obsessing about an ex-girlfriend—I prepare a cup of coffee and scroll using my burner social media account. I can’t help ‘liking’ all of the posts tagging Olivia while I wait for my coffee to brew. It isn’t until I’m about to grab my cream that I notice which account I’m using.
Fuck!
It isn’t as if I can go back and un-like everything. The damage is done. I can’t call my team about this, and instead call my sister, Nicole. Thankfully, she picks up on the first ring, answering, “I was wondering when I would be hearing from you.”
“How do you undo a massive amount of likes on social media?” I snap.
“Good morning to you too. I’m guessing this is about Olivia Harris and her recent win in California?”
“No,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Bullshit.”
“Fine, if you won’t help me with my current predicament, hypothetically, in one of those romance books you read—you know, the second-chance ones—how many days does it take for the girl to fall in love with the guy?”
“It’s fiction, so, I don’t know, five-ish days. But you’re going to need more than a week to win Olivia back if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not,” I lie, rubbing the back of my neck.
Nicole lets out a full laugh. “You’ll need fivemonths, not days, baby brother.”
“I don’t have five months! I’ll be lucky if I have five minutes with her.”
“Isaac,” she sighs, “after all this time, you really think you can just woo her as if you never spent a moment apart?”
“Basically,” I grumble, hating how she’s right.
“Fuck, you’re an idiot. When is the event everyone is losing their shit over?”
“February or March. We haven’t secured a date.”
