Page 63 of Meet Me at Midnight

ElizaBeth: Mixing business and personal lives generally doesn’t end anywhere good. It’s why most companies have an HR policy revolving around preventing employees from fraternizing. And even though Banks & McKenzie doesn’t have that kind of policy, I think we need to end this, whatever this is, that’s happening inside these chats. I’m sorry, but yeah, I think this needs to be goodbye.

When I hit send on my final message, I feel like a total asshole for feeling sad, but it is what it is. Not a single ounce of relief comes from sending him those words, even when I know in my conscience it should.

Get over it, I tell myself. It’s the only option.

But because I’m a masochist, I look at the messages one more time, even scroll through all the previous messages before, reminiscing over all the things we’ve shared with each other. All the playful, flirty things that’ve been said.

My finger hovers over the big red X that sits in the upper right corner of the screen that’ll end this chat for good. Just one tap of the screen and it will scrub the hours spent inside from my phone and my life forever.

But before I can muster the courage to do it,ThunderStruck has reentered the chatpopulates on the screen. I almostclick out before he can say anything, but as it turns out, I’m not strong enough.

ThunderStruck: I think you’re wrong.

I stare at his words for what feels like forever. The only thing that pulls me out of my daze is the message that appears below them.

ThunderStruck: The risk is worth the reward. I know how you make me feel. I know that when I wake up, you’ve become one of the first things I think about. And when I go to bed, you’re one of my last thoughts, too. I spend an insane amount of my day excited to read a new message from you, and I’ve spent twenty-eight years without anything close to that. I refuse to say goodbye without giving this a fair shot. Why won’t you?

Tears hit my eyes as I force my fingers over the keyboard.

ElizaBeth: I don’t know. It’s just more complicated than you can even imagine.

ThunderStruck: Fuck complicated, ElizaBeth. I think we’re playing with soul-deep.

A soul-deep connection.Between me and Beau. The thing I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade.Freaking hell, if that doesn’t strike a nerve.

ThunderStruck: But how can we know if we don’t take the leap? I think we need to meet. I think you need to stop being scared and finally show me who you are. We need to give this thing a real shot.

When I don’t respond, he sends another message.

ThunderStruck: Please. I need to meet you. It feels like you could be the woman I’m supposed to fall for. There’s something here. And I don’t want to let it go.

His words are everything I’ve ever hoped and wished and dreamed that I’d hear Beau Banks say. And they’re my final undoing. They make it impossible for me to deny what I want the most in this world, consequences be damned. I have to let myself have this. If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering.

ElizaBeth: Okay. Let’s meet. But it needs to be somewhere outside of the office, and I need to be sure no one else will be there.

ThunderStruck: How about the gym in my building? Tomorrow. At midnight. Seems appropriate, doesn’t it? And I’m pretty confident it’ll be desolate, too. I can send you the address.

Considering the gym in his building is also the gym inmybuilding, it doesn’t feel as risky as a club or bar. It feels…about as safe as I can get. Well, as long as I can make sure Avery isn’t there.

ElizaBeth: Okay.

This is really happening.My fairy-tale messages with Beau are coming to a close. But Cinderella has one up on me this time.

I have no idea if my ending will be happy or not.

Music pounds from the speakers placed strategically around downtown Miami’s newest club Echo, and I look past the red velvet ropes of the VIP section Avery convinced her current boy toy Ben to reserve for us tonight. She’s currently on the dance floor, making out with some guy with long, dark hair that reminds me of that big, muscular dude fromGame of Thrones.

I steal a glance behind me, where Ben sits cluelessly on one of the posh black sofas, chatting with a friend of his named Jackson whom I just met when we arrived. Ben has no idea that the girl he’s after, the one who is utilizing his generosity and willingness to cover the very expensive tab, is currently on the dance floor sucking face with a guy she just met.

But none of this is my concern when I check the time on my phone and see it’s thirty minutes till midnight.

I hate myself for what I strategically put into action tonight and for what I’m about to do, but I do it anyway. I had to be sure Avery would be out so I’d have the building to myself.

Uber app pulled up on my phone, I order a ride back to our condo and send Avery a text message I know she won’t see because she’s too busy sticking her tongue down Mr.Game of Thrones’s throat.

Me: Feel a little sick from dinner but don’t want to ruin your fun. Grabbing an Uber and heading home.

I hit send as I’m grabbing my purse and tell Ben and Jackson goodbye. They try to convince me to stay, but it only takes an excuse of feeling like puking for them step clear of my path toward the door.

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