Page 84 of Text Appeal

“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 hasslinghim 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 bloodin 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.

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