Page 13 of More Than an Ex-Girlfriend

“Give him time. To me, the big reaction means he still cares.”

I grab onto that thought because I need it. And more than anything, I want it to be true.

“The upside to all this is that it doesn’t matter who helps you move. No more secrets.” She grins. “There’s always a bright side.”

That’s true for Layla, but I’m not sure my life got the memo. After my dad died, my mom became an alcoholic, and life was anything but bright.

Then I remember the note from Crocheting-Cowboy. “I got another message from the crocheting cowboy. So that’s good.”

“You aren’t giving him personal info, right?” Eyes narrowed, she wags a finger at me.

“I got super personal in the last message. Now he knows I live in the US.”

She pulls a face. “You need a man you can hold hands with, not someone who hides behind a keyboard.”

“He’s nice.”

“He could be a serial killer. Or ugly.” She giggles. “Either of those would be bad. I vote for Archer.”

Layla doesn’t seem to get that Archer isn’t an option.

“Eat. You’ll feel better.”

I take a bite, hoping she’s right. “Maybe it won’t be too horrible.”

She dips a fry into her milkshake. “Like I said, there’s always a bright side.”

* * *

I should be sleeping.But my darn brain only wants to replay both meetings with Archer over and over and over. I give up trying to sleep and slide out of bed. As I’m unpacking boxes and pulling out ingredients to make cookies, my phone buzzes.

Crocheting-cowboy: It’s good to know we’re on the same side of the international dateline. I feel closer to you already. (That was a joke.)

I had quite the day. It’s not something I can talk about without giving way more than I’m comfortable sharing on the internet, but it’s nice to be able to message you and forget about everything else. How was your day?

I’m not the only one up late. Likely, he’s on the West Coast where it’s barely midnight. Not in this part of Texas. Only a crazy person makes her ex’s favorite cookies in the middle of the night.

I mix cookie dough, thinking about the internet stranger that I’ve spent so much time messaging these last few months. Admittedly, when he sent me that first note, I only answered because his username reminded me of Archer.

But Archer wasn’t—and the last time I looked still isn’t—a social media kind of guy. He isn’t on Facebook or Instagram. I didn’t even bother looking on TikTok. And the thought of him on Reddit makes me laugh.

Crocheting-Cowboy is funny. And I’ve found myself reaching for the phone a lot more often just to see if he’s messaged. We agreed in the beginning that we wouldn’t share personal information that could be used to identify us, but I imagine he knows I’m on the younger side because our first interaction was when he responded to my post about my regret over a bad choice. It wouldn’t have taken Sherlock to figure out I was talking about a breakup.

In the post, I didn’t give the internet details about my age or why I made the bad choice. If I can’t tell Archer, there is no way I’m telling a server full of strangers, but posting about it in vague terms was a way for me to yell into the void. I sort of hoped I’d hurt less after letting go a bit. That’s not the case.

Layla isn’t a fan of my new messaging buddy because she says I’m using him as a crutch to continue avoiding Archer. That’s not true now.

After sliding the first batch of cookies into the oven, I type out a message.

Regretful-Raccoon: Maybe it’s the cold weather that’s making the world go crazy, but it’s been a bit nuts here as well. So I’m baking cookies. Because that’s what you do in the middle of the night, right?

I hit send and then realize my mistake. Giving away my approximate time zone doesn’t narrow it down much, but it’s a reminder to be careful. I’m tired, and it would be easy to slip up and tell him something that would lead him right to my front door.

And if his intentions were bad, I’d have no one to protect me except Archer. And I’m not his favorite person.

I don’t wait long for a reply.

Crocheting-Cowboy: Cookies? Yum! What kind?

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