Text Me On Tuesday: All is Fair in Love and Texting ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  I nod my head dumbly and stagger out of the room like a convict seeing daylight for the first time in ten years. Somehow the lights of the reception area are too bright and instead of feeling nice and relaxed, I feel … restless. I stop at the front desk and wait while the receptionist talks on the phone. I watch her, growing increasingly agitated by the second. Just then Busty comes out and says, “You forgot your purse.”

  I take it from her, saying, “Thanks, Busty.”

  Her head snaps back and she says, “What did you just call me?”

  If I weren’t stoned right now, I’d be super embarrassed. “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Yeah, you did,” she snaps.

  I narrow my eyes at her, ready to fight even though I have no idea why. “You’re the one without enough shirt on, not me!”

  I clamp my hands over my mouth and gasp. “Sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m really angry right now.”

  Busty’s face falls. “Oh, you might be having a reaction to the diazepam. Most people feel really chilled out on it, but some people have a bad reaction after a while, and they get super aggressive. I’d suggest going straight home.”

  Bad reaction? Go home? What?! I give her two very aggressive thumbs up and say, “Okay, will do.”

  The receptionist, who is still yakking away, pulls something out of the printer and snaps her fingers to get my attention. Well, that’s rude. Maybe I should fight her. I pick up the piece of paper and see that it’s a bill for my tooth. What’s this all about? I thought Dr. Pearlman was fixing my tooth as a favor to Byron. I motion to the receptionist. After she puts her call on hold, I ask, “Am I supposed to pay this?”

  She takes it from me and looks at it, then in a red pen, she circles a name in the upper left corner. “Noel Fitzwilliam has already paid. This is just a copy for your records.”

  “Noel Fitzwilliam paid?” I ask in shock. “I thought Dr. Pearlman was doing this as a favor for Byron Scott.”

  She looks confused. “I don’t know who that is. But Mr. Fitzwilliam called in and pre-paid a few weeks ago. I remember because it’s so unusual.”

  I grab the receipt and blindly turn around to leave while I try to make heads or tails out of what she said. Nope. I can’t. In a daze, I walk to the nearest subway stop and take the next train down to Wall Street. I’m going to make Byron look me in the eye and tell me what’s going on.

  My face must look deformed from all the Lidocaine because I’m getting some strange looks from other passengers on the train. One lady even reaches into her purse and hands me a tissue. She offers it to me, saying, “Honey, you’re drooling.”

  There’s a faraway voice in my head telling me not to go into Fitzwilliam today. Not while I’m having a reaction to the drugs Dr. P gave me. I vaguely recall something about a big presentation but now I’m not sure if it’s happening now or if it’s over. But even if it is happening, Byron won’t be in there so I can still yell at him.

  By the time I get up to the forty-second floor, my upper lip feels huge and I’ve lost feeling in part of my tongue. How much Lidocaine did Dr. Pearlman give me? Byron sees me coming and his eyes bug out like I’m a circus freak.

  “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  I tip my head back and forth. “Denitht appointment.” Then anger builds in my chest as I start at him. “Byron, I think there’s thomething you need to tell me.” I sound stern like a schoolteacher who just caught someone putting a wad of chewed gum under their desk.

  He’s trying so hard to look innocent, he looks guilty. I push it. “I know all about it, Byron. Feth up and I might forgive you thomeday.”

  He folds like a house of cards in a tornado. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know he was pretending to be me until you’d been texting him for ages!”

  What is he talking about?

  He continues, “It’s just that Noel really liked you and really wanted to get to know you, so he pretended to be me so he could do that.”

  What?!

  Byron keeps going. “But it’s not as creepy as it sounds, I promise. Noel and I have pretended to be each other ever since we were little boys.” He must note the horror in my eyes, because he hurries to say, “It’s a very common thing for twins to do.”

  “Your hith bruther?!” I scream.

  “Oh dear, he didn’t tell you? I thought he would have mentioned that by now.”

  My entire body feels as numb as my mouth as I try to process what I’ve just heard. Mortification floods my extremities as I remember telling Byron how hot I was for his boss. And all the time I was saying that to Noel. OMG. “No and he didn’t tell me that I wath texthting him and not you … and neither did you. The lieth! The lieth you two have told!”

  “Oh my god, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Byron says, trying to hug me.

  I shake him off. “You’re a liar. And tho ith Noel.”

  “Does it make a difference that we did it because he liked you so much?”

  I glare at him until he says, “I suppose not.” Then a slightly confused look crosses his face. “Wait. If you weren’t talking about the texting or our being brothers, what were you talking about?”

  I hand him the receipt from Dr. Pearlman’s office. “Thith.”

  He looks at it and says, “Oh. That.”

  Rage fills my brain and I demand, “Where ith he?”

  “He’s presenting to the Walters in the conference room.”

  I spin on my heel and stalk down the hall, readying myself for battle.

  “You can’t go in there, Aimée,” he says as I storm by.

  “Really?” I turn around and yell. “Whoth gonna thtop me?!”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Noel

  “And here, you’ll note we’ve found a way to provide the illusion of an invisible rainwater collection system by creating a false front that matches the surrounding materials.” Pausing for a second, I glance back at the slide on the wall behind me. One click of the remote adds another layer to the image, and instantly, the pipes disappear. I look over at Walter Junior, and see he’s nodding, which I take as a very good sign.

  A thump on the glass wall near the door causes everyone to turn. And there’s the love of my life, drooling and glaring at me while she holds a piece of paper against the glass. I lean forward and narrow my eyes, but from my current vantage point, I have no idea what it is. I give her a “not now” look, but she doesn’t budge like I hoped she would.

  “What is the caterer doing here?” Cindy asks loudly. “Does she really need to be paid right this very second? Pushy, much?”

  “There must be a serious problem,” I say in a sharp tone. Turning to the Walters, I add, “I’m very sorry. I’ll just need a minute.” Then, looking at Ali, I ask him to take over.

  As soon as I’m out in the hall, I head straight for my office so as to avoid curious onlookers while I find out what’s going on. “I don’t know what could possibly be so pressing that you had to interrupt the most important presentation of my life,” I tell Aimée.

  She follows me, waving the paper near my shoulder. “Thith!”

  I snatch it from her and read it, then stop. “Oh, this.” Shit. Bollocks. Double damn. Bugger. “I can explain.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she raises her voice, her nostrils in full-flare mode. “Oh, really? Can you explain how you and Byron are acthually twinth and you’re not just hith bosth? And that the whole time I was texthing him I wath really texthing you???!!!” She unfolds her arms and pokes me on the upper chest for good measure.

  “Aimée … I was going to tell you—”

  “When? After we got married and had a couple of kidth? Or maybe when you were on your death bed?” she yells.

  “Please lower your voice,” I say, wishing we’d made it all the way back to my office and we weren’t having this conversation in the hallway.

  “Why? Am I embarrathing you?! I wouldn’t want to humiliate you. God kn
owth it’s no fun to be humiliated!”

  “Aimée, please, I know what I did was wrong and I promise I’ll never do anything like this again,” he says, placing both hands carefully on my upper arms. “But, can we just discuss this at home in private? There’s so much I need to explain and I can’t have this conversation right at this moment.”

  “It’th now or never,” she says, shrugging away from me. “Becauth you’re not going to see me at your home again.” She nods once and adds, “I’m getting my stuff right now. I’ll be gone before you get back!”

  “Please, let’s not—”

  Pointing one finger in my face, she barks out, “I am not overreacting!”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.” I was totally going to say that.

  Over her shoulder, Cindy snaps her fingers. “Umm, Noel? Ali’s done and if you don’t get back in there, I’m pretty sure they’re going to leave.”

  I look at Cindy, and I say, “Yes, of course. Straight away.”

  I turn back to Aimée, but she’s already moved past me and is storming down the hall. Son of a bitch. Following her, I add, “Aimée, please, just wait in my office, okay? I promise I can make it right.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I am willing to spend the rest of my life trying.

  She flips me the middle finger over her shoulder and says, “Make thith right!”

  When she passes Byron, she yells, “That goath for you too!”

  With that, she swings the glass door open so hard, it bounces back and hits her on the shoulder as she walks out, bumping her into the other glass door. She makes a heartbreaking yipping sound like a small dog who just had one foot stepped on, but she doesn’t break her stride. A few seconds later, the elevator doors open, and she disappears, but not before giving my brother and me double middle fingers. One for each of us, I suppose.

  Byron looks at me. “So, you still hadn’t told her, then? I really thought you would have by now.”

  “Oh, sod off,” I say, turning around and heading back to a room full of my staff and my most important clients, who all now think I allow the caterer to boss me around. Very confidence-inspiring, Noel. Just brilliant. Way to cock up your entire life all in one afternoon.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Aimée

  I send Teisha an SOS.

  AiméeT: I just broke up with Noel. You know how I started texting Noel after our first gig at F&A? Turns out I wasn’t. I was texting Noel the whole time!

  T: …

  AiméeT: And you know how Byron is Noel’s assistant? Well, he’s also his twin brother!

  T: …

  AiméeT: I have been duped! I’ve been treated like a toy, a floozy, a non-equal, and I’m not going to stand for it!

  T: …

  AiméeT: Are you listening to me?!

  T: SLOW down! Yes, I’m listening, but I’m also trying to absorb this. You’re saying the whole time you were complaining to Byron about Noel, you were really complaining to Noel?

  AiméeT: YES!

  T: Oh sweetie, are you coming home?

  AiméeT: Yes.

  T: Okay, I’ll see you there in about an hour when I’m off. Hang tough, sister, we got this.

  AiméeT: -sad face-crying face-broken heart-broken heart-broken heart-

  As soon as I exit the subway on Noel’s block, my anger morphs to sadness at warp speed. Why did this have to happen to me? I love Noel. Retraction. I loved Noel. He was everything I could have ever wanted in a boyfriend and more. I just didn’t count on him being a low down dirty rotten scum-sucking liar.

  Once I get up to the apartment, I make quick work of packing up the stuff I have there. Part of me wants to trash the place as a sign of my broken heart. You know, break stuff—I’m eyeing you, Limoges coffee service—throw all the food in the fridge into the garbage, really blow through this place like a tornado.

  Ultimately, I decide that would be crossing the line of my own self-respect, so I simply pull the roses he gave me out of their vase and toss them in the garbage. Leaving the lid up, of course. While I believe in maintaining dignity, I’m also a real fan of passive-aggressive statements.

  Heaving my overnight bag over my shoulder, I take one last look at Noel’s super gorgeous apartment and try to memorize everything. While I’m devastated beyond belief, I never want to forget these last beautiful weeks before my heart was dashed upon the rocky shore of love. I’m no poet, but at the moment I feel positively Byronic.

  By the time I get back up to Harlem, my mouth is no longer numb, which means I can speak normally but also, my mouth is really sore, which just adds insult to injury. T is already home and has laid out the break-up buffet—marshmallow fluff, chocolate syrup, a can of spray whipping cream, and a jar of Spanish olives. You don’t eat them all together. It more like a spoonful of this, a squirt of that, a spray of this and a salty topper.

  I drop my bag and let her throw her arms around me. “I think we need to reread all the texts to make sure this is as bad as you think it is,” she says after a minute.

  “It’s bad, T. So, so bad,” I say, cringing. “And the lies? It’s unforgivable. Maybe if he’d told me three weeks ago when things started for real, I might have been able to forgive him. But he kept this to himself for too long to believe he was ever going to confess. And he pulled Byron into his deception! I’ve lost my beautiful British boyfriend and we’ve both lost our new gay best friend!” I’m full-on wailing now.

  “Damn,” T says while spraying the whipped cream directly into her mouth. After she swallows it, she says, “Hand me your phone.”

  We spend the next two hours going through every single text Noel and I shared while he pretended to be his brother. Lowlights include “For a gig like that, I’ll kiss his feet and call him daddy,” and me moaning about how he turned me down after our “business dinner.” The things I said to him are so embarrassing I might just have to give up texting altogether. After all, you never really know who’s on the other side, do you?

  At five o’clock, the street buzzer goes off, alerting us that someone wants to come up. Looking out the window, I tell Teisha, “Don’t answer it. It’s Noel.”

  She goes straight to the refrigerator and grabs a dozen eggs and brings them to me. I open the window and yell down six floors, “Go home, Noel! I don’t want to talk to you ever again!”

  He looks up and spots me. “Aimée, please! I know I messed up. I do. But I promise you I’ll never do anything like that again. Only the truth from here on out.”

  “Once a liar, always a liar,” I reply.

  “I love you, Aimée, in a way I’ve never loved anyone before and never will again. You’re it for me and yes, I was a total git to do what I did. And the entire time, I knew I had to stop, but I just couldn’t because it would have meant I wouldn’t have had any contact with you. I’ve never in my life done anything even close to as stupid or dishonest and I would never do something like it again.” Dozens of people have stopped walking and are now watching, which must be super-humiliating for him. It kind of makes me happy, to be honest.

  He looks so pathetic down there in his rumpled suit. I briefly wonder how the rest of his presentation went, but there is no way in hell I’d ever ask him. That’s not any of my business now that he’s not my boyfriend, or client probably. Damn, that’s going to be a double sting.

  “Please, will you just let me up so we can talk? Or come down? Either’s good. I just don’t want things to end this way.” He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up just like it does after you-know-what. “Or at all, really. I meant everything I said to you, even when I was pretending to be Byron.”

  A woman walks past him, giving him the side-eye, then looks up at me and yells, “Shut the window, honey, and forget him!”

  T looks at me. “You’re too quiet. You’re not actually considering taking him back, are you?”

  “Pfft, no!” I say, even though that’s exactly what I was just thin
king. Just for a milli-second. She picks up her phone and makes a call. I hear her say, “Kwon, we’ve got a rat at the front door. Would you mind chasing it away for us?”

  Moments later, I see Kwon fly out of The Finger and run down the street carrying a broom. When he spots Noel, he looks skyward and calls T back. She picks up and affirms, “That’s him.”

  Then, like he’s some kung fu master, Kwon grabs the broom in both hands and holds it high over his head before releasing a shrill battle call. Within feet of Noel, he spins it in one hand like he’s a psychotic majorette in a high school marching band.

  I watch as Noel backs up and says, “What the …”

  Kwon yells, “You go! Leave friends alone! They no want you!”

  Noel looks up at me briefly and shouts, “I’m going to find a way to fix it, Aimée. I love you and this is not going to end like this!” Then he makes a run for his town car before Kwon can smack him with the broom handle.

  I turn to Teisha. “Kwon is something of a man of mystery, isn’t he?”

  She nods. “He is a good friend with some special skills, that’s for sure. Not every man has a knack for filing calluses and can also double as a bodyguard.”

  “You should go out with him sometime, T,” I tell my friend. It hasn’t passed my notice how her eyes glaze over fondly when she talks about him.

  “Maybe,” she says noncommittally. “But first, let’s run you a hot bath. While you have a therapeutic soak, I’ll call for Chinese and queue up Love Actually. A little MSG and a good cry can fix anything.”

  Once upon a time, I might have agreed with her. Right now, I’m not so sure.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Noel

  Three Weeks Later

  One of the great ironies of life is that you can be perfectly fine all by yourself for many years—happy even. But then you meet the one, totally cock it up, and when you try to go back to your old life, it feels like an itchy jumper that’s three sizes too small. And for some ungodly reason, it’s nearly super-glued on so you can’t take off.