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Done.
That gnawing feeling doesn’t go away, though. Because it has nothing to do with food.
I collapse on the couch and try to unwind with a show on Netflix. But all the while, I keep thinking of Brooks saying those words to me.
You told Stranger88 you couldn’t wait to see me. Well, I’m right here.
I remember what I said I’d do when I saw him. I said I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing him and touching him and wanting him closer, now that I had him in the flesh.
My face heats at the thought of having Brooks that close.
Just like in those fantasies.
I practically run up the stairs and strip off my skirt, climbing into bed and grabbing my vibrator from the nightstand drawer.
I’m about to bring it between my legs when I look at it and realize what I’m doing.
He didn’t want to leave. I wanted that. Am I that lost that I’m giving up real human contact for something with batteries?
Shoving the vibrator back into the drawer, I grab my phone and pull up the BLIND LOVE app. I expect that now, Stranger88 will have decided that the app is for shit and disconnected his account.
But he hasn’t. In fact, he’s online now.
Probably messaging other women.
Just as that thought filters through my head, a notification pops up. You have one message. I open it. It’s from him.
Stranger88: I was hoping you’d pop on.
I stare at it, my fingers trembling on the keypad. It was so easy to talk to him when I didn’t know who he was. And now? I can’t find the words.
But Brooks always has the words.
Stranger88: So where do we go from here?
A thousand ideas have been rattling in my head since I left the conference room—from ludicrous things, like leaving the country—to more sensible things, like telling the partners that we can no longer work together.
But all of them seem wrong.
Because none of them end the way I want them to.
It’s so crazy because this is Brooks Gentry. The man I hate. The man I never saw myself with in a thousand years.
But when I line him up with Stranger88, I feel like all those things I thought I hated about Brooks were just my own false, preconceived notions about him, and that maybe I was wrong.
But he can’t possibly feel the same way about me. Can he?
Stranger7721: I don’t know. All I know is that I am going to miss our messaging. I looked forward to it every night.
Stranger88: Past tense. So you’re saying you want to call it quits?
Stranger7721: I think we have to, don’t we?
Stranger88: Is that a law? I must have skipped over that part in law school.
He’s toying with me. Because he’s actually making it seem like he wants to continue. I don’t—can’t—buy it. Brooks lives to toy with women. I’ve seen the way he makes those poor interns twist in the wind. I’m not going to let it happen to me.
Stranger7721: It’s probably for the best.
Stranger88: If you think so.
I really don’t know! I expect to see the words: Stranger88 has left the conversation, and a bolt of alarm strikes me straight in the heart. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to be alone again.
As if he senses that, another message comes through.
Stranger88: Can I ask you one question, though?
Yes. Truth be told, I’d love it if he could ask me a thousand questions. But I can’t—this is Brooks Gentry. I need to remember that. So I make my answer as short as possible.
Stranger7721: Ok
Stranger88: If you hate me so much, why did you check the app? Why did you reply to my message? Why are you on here right now, talking to me?
All very good points.
He’s calling my bluff. And he’s right. I’d love to stay up all night talking like before. Who cares if this is Brooks? Chemistry is chemistry—online or not. I want to take everything I said back. Let’s keep this going.
But before I can respond, he beats me to it.
Stranger88 has left the conversation.
26
She hates me.
Or she’s convinced herself she does.
Either way, there is absolutely no sense in me trying to tell Tenley Bayliss otherwise. Her mind is made up.
And while I may be a pro at convincing a judge to see my side, I never thought I’d have to convince Stranger7721.
She knows me. Better than anyone.
But she’s still holding on to that belief that I’m nothing but a thorn in her side.
In a way, I am. I am the guy standing in the way of her getting that promotion.
It’s bullshit. I stalk downstairs and into the kitchen, pulling out food to make something to eat. A little while later, as I’m wrapping my mouth around a PB&J, Ellie comes in. “What’s wrong with you?”
Her tone is accusing. I’m not in the mood. “Nothing.”
