Page 11 of To Her

Geri

M att had ghosted me. Again.

It had been three days since our reconciliation—three days since he'd promised to call, since we'd spent the night tangled in my sheets, since I'd foolishly let myself believe this might actually be something worth pursuing.

Three days of silence.

"You're stabbing that octopus like it personally offended you," James observed, watching me from across the break table.

I glanced down at my plate, where I'd been aggressively spearing pieces of baby octopus salad without actually eating them. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About Tattoo Boy?" James asked, though it wasn't really a question. He knew me too well.

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, finally taking a bite of food.

James shrugged, returning his attention to my phone, which he'd commandeered as soon as we sat down for our break. "Fine by me. I'm busy finding you a replacement anyway."

I should have protested, should have snatched my phone back and told him to mind his own business. But the truth was, I didn't have the energy to care anymore. If James wanted to swipe right on every man in a fifty-mile radius, let him. It wasn't like any of them would measure up to?—

No. I wasn't going to think about Matt. Not now. Not when I was finally starting to feel like myself again after the emotional whiplash of the past few days.

"How was your date with Liam?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

James's face lit up instantly. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. We went to that new place on Harbor Street—you know, the one with the rooftop garden? He had reservations, which was impressive because that place is booked solid for months."

I smiled, genuinely happy to see him so excited. "And? Details, please."

"He was a perfect gentleman. Pulled out my chair, ordered wine that cost more than my rent, knew exactly what to say to make me laugh." James sighed dreamily. "And then he walked me home and kissed me goodnight at my door. Just a kiss—nothing more. Said he wanted to take things slow, do it right."

"Wow. He sounds too good to be true."

"I know, right? I keep waiting for the catch. Like maybe he's secretly married, or he has a collection of human teeth in his basement." James laughed, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "But so far, he seems... real. Like, genuinely nice."

"You deserve that," I said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "I'm happy for you."

And I was. James was one of the best people I knew, and if anyone deserved a fairy-tale romance, it was him.

I was an empath at heart—when my friends were happy, I was happy.

When they were sad, I felt that too. Right now, I was leaching off James's happiness, letting it brighten my own mood despite the Matt-shaped cloud hanging over me.

"Oh!" James exclaimed suddenly, his eyes fixed on my phone. "You've got a Facebook message."

Before I could respond, he'd already opened it, his smile growing wider as he read. "Well, well, well," he murmured, typing something in response.

"What? Who is it?" My curiosity was piqued despite myself.

James turned the phone around, showing me a profile I didn't recognize. The name read "Alexander 'Alex' Williams," and the profile picture showed a good-looking guy with blonde hair and a crooked smile that seemed both confident and a little shy.

The message read:

Hey, I saw your Tinder profile, and well, I'm better at social media detective work than I am at talking to someone on there, so I thought I'd find your profile, stalk you a bit, then message you. By the way, your bio is so funny—I must say you have my attention.

I laughed, remembering the ridiculous bio James had written for me. "What did you say back?"

"I asked if he was a merman," James said proudly.

As if on cue, a new message appeared:

No, but I can hold my breath for a very, very long time. Would you like to see how long I can be smothered for?

I felt my cheeks heat at the innuendo, and James burst out laughing. "Oh, I like him already," he said, typing a response before I could stop him.

I leaned over to read what he'd written:

If you can hold your breath for as long as my gag reflex can last, then yes, I might hold you to that.

"James!" I exclaimed, laughing despite myself. "You can't just?—"

"What? It's not like you're going to respond to him anyway. You're too hung up on Tattoo Boy."

He wasn't wrong, but I still felt a flutter of interest as I read Alex's messages.

There was something appealing about the easy banter, the confidence it took to track me down on Facebook rather than just swiping right and hoping for a match.

And it was so much easier to be witty and flirtatious online, where there was no risk of stumbling over my words or revealing how much of a mess I was in real life.

Reality, however, had a way of humbling me. Just as I was about to take my phone back and respond to Alex myself, it started ringing in James's hand. The screen displayed a name that made my stomach drop: Matt.

I reached out and snatched the phone from James, staring at the screen as if it might bite me.

"Don't answer it," James said immediately. "He ghosted you, babe. You deserve so much better." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Plus, Alex can hold his breath..."

I took a deep breath and answered the call, putting it on speaker. I didn't trust myself to hold the phone to my ear without giving away how much his silence had affected me.

"Hello?" I said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to tense.

"Hey, babe," Matt's voice came through, warm and familiar as if he hadn't disappeared for three days. "You working tonight? Wanna grab dinner at my place? My mom is cooking and wants to meet you."

I blinked, momentarily speechless. His mom wanted to meet me? After three days of radio silence, he was inviting me to a family dinner like nothing had happened?

James was making frantic cutting motions across his throat, silently urging me to hang up or say no. But my heart—my stupid, hopeful heart—was already racing at the sound of Matt's voice.

"Sure," I heard myself say, before my brain could formulate the response I should have given.

"Great! I'll text you the address. 6 PM okay? You can stay over."

I sighed, resignation settling over me like a heavy blanket. "Sure."

"See you then," he said, and then he was gone, leaving me staring at my phone in confusion.

James was looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Please tell me you're not actually going."

I didn't answer, my attention caught by a new Facebook message from Alex.

I'm free all week, so I'm happy to take you out to dinner anytime you're free.

"Fuck," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands.

"What's it going to be, Geri?" James asked softly. "The guy who keeps disappearing on you, or the one who's actually making an effort?"

It was a good question. A fair question. And I had no idea how to answer it.

On one hand, there was Matt—intense, passionate, complicated Matt, who made my heart race and my body sing, but who couldn't seem to remember I existed when we weren't physically in the same room.

On the other hand, there was Alex—a complete stranger who'd gone out of his way to find me, who was funny and forward in a way that intrigued rather than repelled me, who was offering a fresh start with no emotional baggage.

"I already said yes to Matt," I said finally, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

James sighed. "You can cancel. Say you're sick. Say you have to work. Say anything."

"And then what? Go out with some guy I've never met, who might be a complete psychopath for all I know?"

"As opposed to the guy who's definitely an emotional terrorist?" James countered. "At least give Alex a chance. Talk to him a bit more, see if there's something there."

I glanced at my phone, where Alex's message still waited for a response. It would be so easy to say yes, to explore this new possibility, to see if there was something—anything—that could help me forget about Matt.

But even as I considered it, I knew I wouldn't. Because despite everything, despite the ghosting and the confusion and the inevitable heartbreak looming on the horizon, I couldn't get Matt out of my system. Not yet.

"I'll go to dinner," I said, more to myself than to James. "I'll hear what he has to say. And if he can't give me a good explanation for disappearing again, then... then I'll consider my options."

James looked sceptical but didn't push. "Your funeral," he said, standing up and checking his watch. "Break's over. Try not to stab any customers with your fork."

I managed a weak smile. "No promises."

As James headed back to the kitchen, I looked down at my phone again. Two messages, two very different men, two potential paths forward.

I typed a quick response to Alex.

Thanks for the offer. I'm actually pretty busy this week, but I'll let you know if that changes.

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. It was a maybe—a lifeline I could grab if tonight went as badly as part of me expected it to.

Then I opened Matt's text with the address, staring at it for a long moment before finally typing:

See you at 6.

Three little words that felt like signing my own emotional death warrant. But I'd made my choice, for better or worse. Now I just had to live with it.

I pocketed my phone and stood up, gathering my barely-touched lunch. Whatever happened tonight, at least I'd get some answers. And maybe, just maybe, I'd finally figure out if Matt was worth all this emotional turmoil, or if I was just setting myself up for an even bigger fall.

Either way, I had a feeling this dinner was going to be a turning point. I just wasn't sure which direction it would turn me in.