Page 13 of My Accidental Holidate

There’s two realities in my life. The one that exists inside the room. And the one outside of it.

And I’m not sure which one he’s living in.

6

Lucy

“What’s with the goofy grin?” Rosie asks, handing me a stack of botanical watercolor cards from a local artist.

I move a few items on the shelf, making room for the cards and thinking about how to respond. “It was a good weekend.”

“Oh no, Lucy. You’re holding out on me. Was it a good weekend, like we made-out good? Or was it agoodweekend?” she asks, thrusting her hips back and forth to emphasize her meaning.

I laugh and roll my eyes, turning away from the cards and straightening the section of pens and notebooks.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” she sighs. “I’m just going to assume it was mind blowing sex.”

I mumble, “Well, you’d be right.”

“I knew it!” Rosie whacks my upper arm with the feather duster she picked up. “I want all the details.”

“Oh no…” I’m not willing to divulge more than I already have. “You’re lucky you got what you did.”

“Has he told his family yet?” she asks, turning to dust the next shelf.

And that’s just it. The one thing keeping me from complete happiness.

I don’t know.

After our bedsheet workout, we escaped the party and went back to my place for round two. And then three. He left me sleeping in bed on Sunday with a note about heading into work. We texted since, but I still didn’t know if he told his family. And we hadn’t really talked about what this is.

Are we dating?

Are we fuck buddies?

Are we nothing?

It’s like another man is controlling my life and I’m not sure I’m loving it. But the sex… that’s something I’m not hating, that’s for sure. The man knows how to make my body sing like Mariah-freakin’-Carey. I hit all the high notes and then some that only dogs can hear.

“No clue,” I say, shrugging. “I’m going to run and grab a frappé. You want anything?”

Rosie’s lips tighten and she drops her gaze before I can see the pity I know is there. I’ve been here too many times. Not knowing what the relationship really is. It’s like I’m a magnet for men with commitment issues. No, I’m the one who allows them not to commit.

She declines the offer and I grab my tote from the office and head out. The coffee shop is just close enough to walk, but just far enough away that it makes you have time to think. Today, I opt for walking even though my thoughts might be more bitter than a double-drip espresso.

I check my text messages, frowning when there isn’t one from Kurt, even though I hadn’t heard a notification. I’m just wishing. Before I can chicken out, I type out a message and hit send.

Lucy: Missing my future husband. XOXO

I stare at the screen, excitement and relief welling up at those three blissful dots of someone responding. And I wait while they disappear.

It’s fine. It’s probably just a long text. The crosswalk beeps at me to start walking, which I do. Frustrated, I shove my phone into my pocket and open the door to do the shop. Striding up to the counter and placing my order.

No one is in here except for me and a couple baristas, so I lean against the pickup counter to wait. I pull my phone out to check my messages again. Nothing. Of course. Then punch the buttons to power it off and back on again. Just in case. Still nothing.

I’m don’t want to be this way. I want to know, but maybe it’s for the best.

I sigh and shove the phone back into my pocket. The female barista sets her own phone on the counter, helping the customer that walked in. I can’t help but notice whenher’slights up with a message notification.

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