Page 17 of Writing Mr. Wrong

She was going to hell.

Alan seemed to hang there, suspended in shock.

Gemma continued, “Sadly, I didn’t see a future in it. I mean, good kissing isn’t everything. We both had dreams. Big dreams that would take us in separate directions. Two ships passing in the night. Well, more like two ships colliding. That kiss… wow.”

She wassogoing to hell.

“So youareseeing him?”

“You’re myex, Alan. It’s none of your business who I spend my days with…” She waited a beat. “Or who I spend my nights with.”

She continued, “Thanks for your concern, though. I gotta say that, as hard as our divorce was, you did the right thing walking out. You freed us both to find the right person, you with Melinda, and me with… whoever.”

Yep, she was going straight to hell, and as she hung up, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Damn it, Gemma was never going to get this book written if her phone didn’t stop ringing. Okay, fine, she knew there was a Do Not Disturb setting, and if she wasn’t setting it, was that because she was hoping to hear from someone else? Someone with the initials MM?

She’d told Mason not to call. So why hadn’t she blocked his number? Why was she jumping every time her phone rang?

This was so high school. Worse, even in high school she wasn’t like this.

She’d said no, and she had meant it. So why was she watching her phone?

Gemma hadn’t been playing hard to get. Her parents had taught her better than that. If you make a guy chase until your no turns to a yes, what have you taught him? That “no” really means “try harder.”

What she wanted from Mason was…

She swallowed.

On the simplest level, she wanted an apology. She’d been honest with him about what he did and how it hurt, and then she’d closedthe door because she hadn’t wanted some knee-jerk insincere apology. Even more, she hadn’t wanted to take the chance he’d slough it off. Make excuses. Tell her she was overreacting.

That he’d be a jerk.

That he’d be like Alan.

Except Mason wasn’t Alan, was he? Mason was the anti-Alan.

No, Gemma was going to be honest. Alan had been the anti-Mason.

Not that she’d fallen in love with Mason in high school. She’d never be so foolish. Girls like her only ended up with guys like Mason in those teen movies—the star jock and the valedictorian, together forever. Forever? Hardly. In reality, smart girls don’t fall for guys like Mason, because they know they’ll get their hearts broken.

So she hadn’t fallen for him. She’d just… stumbled. Took a chance on an unattainable guy and got her heart—No,nother heart. Got her ego broken. Her pride broken.

In the aftermath, she’d steered away from any guy who reminded her of Mason Moretti. And then along came Alan—Mason’s polar opposite.

Which worked outsowell.

While she wanted an apology from Mason, more than that, she’d wanted him to acknowledge he’d made a mistake. Which he did. Because he wasn’t like Alan. Except he had hurt her. But also…

But also she wanted him to call.

She pressed her fingers to her temples.

Her phone rang again. And again, it wasn’t Mason. It was a New York number that almost certainly belonged to the publicist whose calls she’d been dodging since the interview.

Damnit.

Gemma needed to write, which was a fine excuse, except she wasn’t writing, was she? She was lost in thoughts of Mason Moretti, like she was seventeen, sitting in the newspaper office after he’d stopped by—again—with some question about his article that ended up with him hanging around for an hour, talking, until she finally kicked his ass out, reminding him he had practice, and then she’d sit there, wishing…

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