Text Me, Maybe Read online

  He nodded. “Psych department.”

  She laughed without humor. “That’s a good one. Was I a case study about how to take advantage of a hick in the city?” She felt like she was treading deep water and had forgotten how to swim. “How many people know? Am I going to be the joke of the university?”

  Matthew groaned, shaking his head. “No. It wasn’t like that. I asked him for advice as a friend. That’s all. No one else knows.”

  “Well, at least there’s that,” she mused. What would life be like after Matthew? “What kind of advice?”

  “I wanted you to notice me.”

  “Notice you?” She snorted. Another lie.

  “I wanted you to see who I was beyond the muscles and personal trainer. Everything we’ve done is real.” He lowered his voice. “We’re so good together. We could have a future—”

  “Don’t say it. Just. Don’t.” What should she do? She felt herself flailing, going under with no one she could trust to save her. “You’ve had a month to tell me, but you didn’t.” She stared at the happy people eating their five-course meal in the adjoining solarium.

  “I tried to tell you that first time I called you, but you laughed and refused to believe me. After we were together at my place, and everything was incredible, I felt guilty, but I was starting to fall for you and couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me over something so stupid.”

  “Stupid? You lied to me. You know how important honesty is to me, and still you betrayed my trust.”

  Yeah, he’d tried to tell her, and there were so many telltale signs, but she’d rationalized them all away. Why? “I can’t think.” She rubbed her temples. How had she let this happen again? He knew she trusted him too much to consider the possibility he was Steel. Why couldn’t he have tried harder to prove it to her, make the hurt less complicated?

  “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

  Lexie scrutinized him. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a quote by—”

  “Shakespeare. I know, Professor,” she scoffed. “Maybe true love’s a joke. Lucky for me, I wasn’t a believer going into this relationship, so it’s not a huge leap back to my former cynical outlook. But I have learned something new. A girl can keep her eyes wide open all she wants, and still can get lied to.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  What was left of her heart lurched at the raw hurt in his voice. He was upset. Whatever. She was, too. He should’ve told her long ago. And now she was crazy in love with him and had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Was there a way to salvage their relationship? She swallowed, wishing for strength, but her gut was hollow. All the energy in her body had been sapped—nothing to do with the 5K and everything to do with the man slouched next to her.

  He loves me.

  But did people who truly loved each other keep secrets? At least, not the kind that would prevent them from moving to the next level. He’d kept a whole compartment of his life hidden from her. He should’ve told her before they’d kissed, before they’d had sex…before she’d begun to fall for him. “Nowhere. We’re over.” She recalled her mother’s reference to Stu. “I don’t do liars.” Her words rang out in the quiet bar.

  “Look at me.”

  His voice rumbled over her, but she resisted. “No.” She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to scream. The scene out in the solarium had been bad enough. The gossip girls were likely on fire, speculating about her, Matthew, and Ms. Swann mixed up in some kind of weird love triangle.

  So much for my fresh start in New York.

  “C’mon. Let me take you home.”

  I can’t trust him.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She turned on him, then, the last bit of fury winding up like a tornado inside of her. “You. Lied. To. Me. Go. Away. Is that not clear? We’re done.”

  It hurt to tell him to go away. Over the last few weeks— No. Get it together. I’m not a doormat. I don’t need people in my life like this. She wiped a hand across her nose.

  “I don’t regret it,” he said. “Not one bit. I get that I screwed up. But the thought of walking away from you right now is ripping my heart from my chest.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, and dragged her gaze from the man she cherished more than putting pen to paper.

  The legs of his stool scraped the floor as he stood. “You’re angry and hurt, and you have the right to be. But before you decide the fate of our relationship, I want you to know I really do love you, with all my heart. That’s not a ploy to change your mind, but the solid truth. It came on fast, maybe that first time I saw you in the gym. And it scared me. I didn’t trust it at first. Maybe that’s why it felt safer getting to know you through the texts. We both seemed to be able to communicate that way, easier than we could face-to-face. We get along, we share so many interests, and we laugh. I know we can make it work, if you’ll give it a chance.”

  Lexie squeezed her eyes shut. “Nope.” What would convince him they were done? Bracing her hands on the bar, she faced him. “It’s over.”

  He shook his head. “But we want the same—”

  “You’re so wrong. We want completely different things. I don’t want to fall in love with you. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to have children with you and live in your beautiful suburban house. I want to live in Manhattan, be single, and focus on my career.” I can play the lying game. See? She signaled the bartender instead of bawling her eyes out.

  “Life is the flower—”

  “For which love is the honey,” she finished, not bothering to hide the bitter edge in her voice. “Victor Hugo.” She grimaced. “They’re just words, Matthew, in a really nice arrangement, useless in real life. Besides, you already used that line on me in a text, remember?”

  Lexie glanced over at him, and fresh pain lanced her chest. God, how she wanted to hold him close and steal the hurt from his eyes. But she couldn’t. They might be in love, but they’d both only end up crushed in the end. Look at them already. What a disaster. She had to send him away, but how? “I don’t care.”

  His expression darkened, and his hands clenched the back of the stool.

  She held her breath, waiting for his anger.

  But Matthew was deathly quiet. Seconds ticked by until, finally, he hung his head and trudged past her, his heavy footsteps disappearing with the whoosh of elevator doors.

  The bartender glanced over. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

  “No, thanks. Changed my mind.” She slid off the stool and headed for the elevator, too.

  Her career as a playwright might be about to take off, but the rest of her life sucked.

  She’d been so stupid. For a few short weeks, she’d thought she had a chance at having it all.

  Dumb. She should’ve known better.

  There’s no such thing as happily-ever-afters.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I’m in an early meeting. —SS

  Lexie crumpled the note from her boss and sank onto her chair. Nine on a Monday was torture enough. No need to relive what Sam defined as a character building experience any sooner than absolutely necessary. In fact, she’d be forever grateful to Ms. Swann if the woman never mentioned the incident.

  He hadn’t called.

  Not even once.

  Well, I did tell him to go away and leave me alone. Can’t fault the guy for following directions, can I?

  Eager to put the whole nasty embarrassment behind her, she reached out blindly toward the inbox on her desk.

  Empty.

  What?

  Was there no work on her desk because of the function over the weekend and Ms. Swann’s early meeting? Or because her services at J&C were no longer needed?

  She so wanted to hate Matthew Hennessey to the ends of the earth…but she couldn’t. And that totally sucked, because that could only mean one thing.

  She loved him—unconditionally loved him.

  And she’d forgiven him.

  Just like th
at.

  Impossible, but true. She couldn’t explain it, either, any more than he’d ever been able to explain why he wanted to be with her. They had been good together. She sighed. And he had tried to tell her the truth. Though, if she’d known the truth, would she have taken the chance to get to know him?

  No.

  Sam had bugged her all weekend about calling him, even offered to take an Uber ride with her to his house and wait outside the house for her while she and Matthew talked through the situation. But she wasn’t about to go crawling back to him after she’d sent him packing. She loved him, but if he didn’t call her, maybe it wasn’t meant to work out. Yes, she wanted him to fight for her. To show her that he’d meant the words. But he didn’t even bother to dial her number. So instead, she’d settled for crawling under the covers all weekend, a pity party for one.

  She was miserable and in mourning.

  But she refused to be stupid anymore.

  She’d live.

  Under the covers of her lumpy bed she’d poured her angst into her notebook.

  Poor Sam had been forced to play drill sergeant so she’d get out of bed and off to work in spite of her raw, aching soul.

  Matthew’s my ex-boyfriend.

  The door clicked open behind her, and Lexie turned, blessedly numb. “Good morning, Mr. Jacobs.” Okay, so that explained why everyone was working before nine instead of hanging around the water cooler or in the break room.

  “Lexie.” His smile was kind. The CEO looked around, then took a step closer and cleared his throat. “I don’t generally pay any attention to company rumors, but I’m making an exception because the one I overheard at dinner Saturday involved a J&C employee that I personally recommended. Is there anything you’d like to report regarding your supervisor?”

  She sat up straight and folded her hands. “No, sir.”

  “Has any staff member at this firm treated you poorly?”

  Lexie looked him in the eye. “No, sir.”

  After a long moment, he nodded. “Please don’t hesitate to contact HR if you change your mind, or have any future issues to bring to HR’s attention. We consider all reported incidents equally. No staff members are exempt from the rules. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, thank you, sir.” She waited for him to leave, then picked up the coffees and moved into the office.

  “Alexandra, have a seat.”

  So awkward.

  “I understand if you want to have me reassigned.”

  Ms. Swann’s eyes lit. “Letting those little gossips chase you away?”

  “I figured you’d feel most comfortable with that.” She shrugged.

  “Why?”

  Lexie sank onto the leather seat and lifted her chin. “I slept with Matthew Hennessey.”

  Ms. Swann twirled her silver monogrammed pen. “No man has ever stood up for me like he did for you.”

  “I swear I didn’t know he was the same trainer until last night.”

  “I believe you.” Ms. Swann set down the pen. “Want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head, swallowing hard and willing the tears to stay put in their ducts where they belonged. “Told you I’m not real good at romantic stuff.”

  Her boss’s shiny blond hair tilted to one side. “From where I sit, you two had it all figured out.”

  Unsure how to respond, she turned to leave.

  “Take the day to sort things out.”

  She’s sending me home? I’ll just hide under the covers some more.

  “I’ll expect you back at nine tomorrow. So work it out before then.” Ms. Swann’s tone brooked no argument.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A half hour later, Lexie was home and back in bed. Phone powered down, she closed her eyes to the world, her favorite Wicked song playing on repeat in her head. She tossed and turned, snippets of lyrics popping up in Technicolor in her mind. She jerked up and tore off the sleep mask she wore for naps. Maybe we can make it work?

  What had Matthew said about the song? She moved to the sink and poured a glass of water.

  A key turned in the deadbolt—interrupting her thoughts—and Sam slid into the apartment. “Thank goodness. Isabella called my office and tracked me down to say you went home, and that she was worried. I tried to call, but when you didn’t answer I became worried, too.” Her friend pulled her into a tight hug then backed up to take a long, hard look at her. “You okay?”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you two.” She moved to the living room and picked up her phone to power it on. “I’m not ill. She insisted I take a mental health day.” She closed her fists. “I’ve decided. I’m going to fight for us.”

  “Imagine that.” Sam shot her an impish smile. “All’s well that ends well.”

  Lexie arched her brows. “Seriously?”

  “It was worth a try. Too soon?”

  She nodded. “Considering I haven’t talked it through with him yet. As far as he knows, I hate him.”

  “Aw, it’s going to work out.” Sam hugged her close again. “Individually, you two might have a flaw or two.” Sam’s smile softened her words.

  “Ya think?” Lexie tried to laugh.

  “But together, you’re perfect.” Sam headed for the fridge. “Or close to it. So call him, already.”

  She shook her head, staring at her phone as a text notification appeared on the screen. She held up her phone. “Can you believe he just asked if I’d stop by Manhattan U anytime today? Says he has a surprise, but if I can’t or don’t want to come to him, he’ll come to me, whenever and wherever I choose.”

  Sam took a swig of her Coke. “He should come to you. It’s not like the guy’s going to have some flash mob performance all set up.”

  “Huh?”

  “C’mon, this was your favorite game back in middle school. You made me play it all the time, remember? We called it The Nonsense Story, where we’d take turns adding one line at a time?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “So…it’s not like the guy’s going to have some flash mob performance all set up.”

  This time Lexie was ready. “Or have the red carpet laid out and cameras rolling when I arrive.”

  “Or hand you a beautiful bouquet of a hundred red roses—”

  “Gerbera daisies,” she inserted.

  Sam smiled. “Or a bouquet of Gerbera daisies in one hand and a huge rock in—”

  Uh, no way. The guy just broke my heart. “Chocolate ice cream is fine, thank you very much.”

  Sam sighed and gave her another hug, then pulled away slowly. “Wish I didn’t have to go back to work.”

  “Thanks for checking on me and cheering me up.” Then, as her roommate closed the door behind her, Lexie called out. “I love you.”

  A few moments later, she sank onto the edge of her bed in the silence, her fingers entwined in her lap, and remembered Matthew’s interpretation of Defying Gravity.

  What kind of surprise would he have in store for her this time, and was she ready to accept it?

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  She’s here!

  Heart pounding, Matthew leaped up from his chair at the English Department information table. He craned his neck, his eyes pinned to Lexie’s silky brown hair and that purple top which, as she’d informed him the last time she wore it, wasn’t purple at all, but lavender. He waved at her like a man stranded on a desert island flagging down the search plane as she moved past with a group of high school students here for Manhattan U’s Open House. But she didn’t see him. Maybe if he stood above the crowd, he’d have a better chance of catching—

  “Professor.” His department colleagues chorused in disapproval.

  “Of course, my error.” He jerked his foot off the chair’s seat and back onto the ground where it belonged, then brushed the brown dirt smudge off the white cushion.

  Lexie had arrived hours earlier than he’d dared hope. Had she used a personal half-day at work because of him? Or had she still been too upset to show up at J&C thi
s morning?

  He stepped to the side of their table, nice and slow, so no one would notice. Reaching into his pants pocket, he took out his phone. A quick text. No worries. He’d begun tapping his message when someone cleared his throat nearby. He paused and glanced up.

  Professor Domenico scowled at him, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Policy,” he mouthed.

  Matthew tapped the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket.

  Maybe the fact that she’d arrived so soon was a bad sign. Had she shown up to remind him in no uncertain terms that they were over, and there would be no second chance?

  He paced on the stone path behind the department’s booth, watching for another glimpse of her. Then there she was again, her lavender top moving through the crowd. Like a mirage, she didn’t seem to be any closer than she’d been the first time he’d spied her. If anything, she seemed farther away. He had to get her attention before she disappeared altogether. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

  “Hennessey, decorum, please,” Dr. Sherman hissed.

  Matthew dropped his hands, and spoke softly through gritted teeth. “There’s someone with whom I must consult.” Prick.

  “Socialize off-hours. This is an esteemed institution for which there are rules. I suggest your behavior match your position,” Sherman admonished, adjusting his bow tie with a huff before turning back to the table to speak with a prospective student.

  Pompous ass.

  Some of his colleagues needed to join the twenty-first century. Teens researched all they needed to know about the academic programs of a university online, long before they visited an actual campus. From the students’ perspective, Manhattan U’s Open House was more about seeing the school and area amenities, answering safety concerns, and sharing the random selfie.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced over at his colleagues chatting with eager, hovering parents, then returned his attention to the crowd filling up the front half of the quad, the tour guide using a bullhorn to expound upon the history of their university. Chris wasn’t nearby to ask for advice, and his godfather couldn’t save his bacon if things all went south. It was his job to make this right. How could he show his gratitude for her going out of her way to see him, even if she was only here out of curiosity?