Page 26 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

Addie

When Addie woke up alone with housekeeping knocking at the door, she pulled on the hotel robe and looked around, wondering if Toni was in the lobby or… she saw the space where Toni’s suitcase had been. No. She’d left.

While I was sleeping.

While the housekeeper came into the room, Addie checked her phone for a text or message. All Toni had left was a note with as much emotional resonance as a grocery receipt: You’re amazing. Thank you for everything.

Fine, the “amazing” bit was nice.

Addie reread it, as if she’d find more hidden in the words on the scrap of paper. There were none. Nothing on the back. No signature with at least an “XO” or “fondly” or heart. Nothing. For a woman whose last grand romantic gesture was naming a character after her, Addie expected more.

Was I wrong about her? About what happened?

Addie felt dirty, especially with the housekeeper giving her a side-eye as she started to empty the trash bin in the room. Awkwardly, Addie wrapped a sheet around herself like a toga.

No luggage.

No anything but Addie’s poorly folded clothes and a note.

“Just one minute,” Addie said, hastily scooping up her clothes and the note before heading to the bathroom. “I overslept.”

No breakfast together. No time for me to grab a shower. No goodbye other than a note.

Toni had left her naked in a room that smelled of sex.

Addie wiped away tears as she dressed, splashed water on her face, and left the room.

Maybe Toni hadn’t meant to make her feel so sad and rejected, but that didn’t change the fact that Addie felt exactly that way.

She was as discarded as the empty liquor bottles from the minibar and the used towels on the bathroom sink.

Was that what this was?

I thought we were friends, at least, but friends don’t act like this.

Addie kept her chin up as she saw the couple from the night before in the lobby, and she kept her shoulders squared as she walked out of the lobby.

So what if she had no baggage? Lots of guests came and went while at hotels.

No one knew that she was leaving because her lover left without so much as a goodbye kiss or a promise to see her later.

Tears threatened to fall again, but Addie shoved them down deep to wherever the rest of the rejections went when Addie ignored them. Maybe I’m just tired.

Addie realized she might be overreacting. She was exhausted. Quickly, she texted, “Safe flight!”

She waited, watching the little dots dance and vanish, dance and vanish. Finally, Toni replied—with a thumbs-up.

Addie’s tears fell as she waited for her rideshare driver.

By the time the driver pulled up, Addie was full out sobbing and gasping.

The man twisted to look back at her and said, “There’s lots of fish in the sea.

Lots of other roles. Lots of whatever it is you just lost. Don’t let the bastards get you down. ”

She hiccupped in between sobs. “I got the role.”

“Well, then, congratulations!” He pulled into traffic. “My grandson gets that way every Christmas and birthday, so much anticipation that no matter if it’s exactly what he wanted, he cries until he pukes. Don’t you be puking in my car, though.”

I thought I got the girl, too.

“I won’t.” Addie swatted at the rest of her tears, staring at her phone, wondering whether or not she ought to try to say something else.

Then in a fit of impulsivity, she deleted Toni’s number and turned on an autoresponder on her email.

She couldn’t text Toni without her number, and Adelaine Stewart wasn’t going to make a fool of herself chasing a woman who left without a word or kiss goodbye.

The ball’s in your court, Toni, she thought. If you want me, you know where I am.

Of course, last time, a full year passed during which Toni hid her name, her career, and even where exactly she lived.

They only crossed paths in person because Toni wrote a book and Addie auditioned to play her namesake.

Would Toni have invited her to meet up eventually?

Had Addie forced things? It hadn’t felt that way last night, but maybe Toni was just skilled at hiding her real feelings.

She admitted that she was there that night in Scotland to pick up a woman. That was probably her plan for LA, too. Just because she said she hadn’t been with anyone since then doesn’t make it true.

Addie thought back over every detail, wishing briefly she’d screenshotted their text conversation before deleting Toni’s number. Had she misread the situation? Thrown herself at Toni? Was Toni only in bed with her because Addie was conveniently there?

In the morning light, everything looked different.

Toni hadn’t pursued her. Addie had basically propositioned Toni twice, and Toni had simply accepted what Addie had offered up.

People tell you who they are, and Toni said she was a fan of casual sex.

So she accepted. It didn’t mean anything other than she liked the way I look.

Addie was under no illusion that she was unattractive. A woman didn’t grow up in LA, of all places, and think she was ugly if she planned to pursue the stage or screen.

With a muffled sob, Addie crumpled up the note, but she still shoved it into her pocket. Even now, she was saving the note Toni left.

Prove me wrong, Addie prayed. Email. Call. Say something.

When an enormous bouquet arrived at the apartment the next day, Addie was relieved. She would have to smush the blossoms to wrap her arms around it. For a brief moment, Addie thought she must have overreacted to Toni leaving silently.

Eric buried his face in the blossoms. Not a boring but delicious-smelling rose in sight. Orchids, lilies, and several things Addie couldn’t identify populated the enormous bouquet. It was beautiful but not particularly fragrant. “Elegant” was probably the best description—other than “expensive.”

Before Eric could grab the tiny white envelope out of the blossoms, Addie plucked the envelope out and opened it. She already knew who had sent it, and she had a surge of hope that there was something real in it until she read the note.

It only said THANKS! SEE YOU SOON! TONI

Addie crumpled it up and tossed it at the wall. “If I hadn’t deleted her number, I’d say something rude to her right now. Grrrr. ”

Her cousin walked over and picked up the note. Silently, he read it. “‘Thanks’?”

Addie shrugged, but tears welled up.

“Oh, honey.” Eric was there, arms around her. “What happened? Did she hurt you? Did you…”

“We had sex,” Addie blurted out, “And in Scotland we… she… with her hand.”

Eric nodded. “She got you off. Named the character after you. Took you to dinner. Emailed you constantly. And then you fucked?”

“Sort of,” Addie hedged.

“You either fucked or didn’t, Ads.” Eric went over to the sofa and patted the seat. “Come on, cuz.”

“We did that, but it didn’t feel, like… just fucking, ” Addie said, wincing at using that word to describe the night. She flopped down next to him.

“So sex, not fucking, and then she vanished and sent that gorgeous bouquet,” Eric added.

“Yes, but did you see the note?” Addie let out another muffled scream, and then she told him all about waking up alone and then the text she sent with only a thumbs-up as a reply. And she finished with, “I thought I meant something to her, not just… sex. She thanked me.”

Eric shook his head. “This is what we all went through in high school. ‘Did she like me?’ ‘Was it just sex?’ ‘Is she actually into me but also a dumbass who says stupid things?’ You know, you could call and talk to her.”

“Can’t.”

“Because?”

“I sort of deletedhernumber,” Addie said so quickly it sounded like one garbled word. She looked over at Eric. “You know my enthusiasm sort of…” Addie shrugged.

“Terrifies people who don’t understand you,” Eric finished with a sigh. “So you deleted her number to keep from texting. Well, she’s a fool if she lets you go, Ads.”

Addie shrugged. “I’ll see her sometime in the next few months. There’s this whole event at a historical house with photos and signings, and I was going to show up and wow her if I got the role. Now, it’s going to be awkward. I just hoped…”

“That she’d call?”

“Or email something,” Addie muttered. “Not send a note that could go just as easily to her grandmother or her editor or the showrunner or… anyone. ”

“I can’t see how seeing her would work anyhow for anything other than hookups. Doesn’t she live in Ohio or something?” Eric shuddered.

“DC, but… she writes. Couldn’t she move anywhere ?” Addie thought about it. Sure, Toni had a teaching job, too, but wouldn’t she quit that with the book’s success? Addie couldn’t move just anywhere because of her career, but Toni could.

I’m being foolish. Toni wasn’t even sending an actual message or making plans, so why would she move across the country for Addie? The whole thing was pointless.

“I’ve let myself think this is some big romance, but maybe I was just… convenient?” Addie whispered.

“Then she’s the one losing out,” Eric said.

“I feel like I lost.” Addie swiped at another stray tear, and Eric pulled her close.

For several moments, they sat there quietly. Then Eric asked, “Are you still doing the show? If you want to hurt her, quit. They’ll cast someone less fabulous and—”

“Are you serious? I love the show, the character, the book.” Addie glared at Eric. “I’m not going to quit just because the author left without a word and sends impersonal notes that my dentist could send me.”

“Ads…”

Addie stood up, hands on hips, glaring at her best friend. “Get dressed. I still deserve a celebration dinner with you. This is a great role, and I’m going to kill it.”

“You are, cuz. I know it, and she’ll see the light,” Eric said, sounding remarkably serious, and then he grinned. “How could anyone not love my cousin? We share a lot of DNA, and I am fabulous. Ergo, you are fantabulous. ”