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

by Whitney Dineen

  Tears spring to my eyes and I do my best to stop them. I cannot sit here and cry in front of him after he lied to me and made such a fool of me. “Pardon me,” I manage to say before jumping up and fleeing out of the room.

  I’m at the bathroom door before I realize Teisha is hot on my heels. “Girl, what now? It looked like you were having the time of your life until you bolted out of there like a lobster was nipping at your butt.”

  “Oh, T.” I throw myself into her arms and sob. “He told me he still loves me!”

  “Well? Do you still love him?”

  “So much, but I can’t reconcile how to forgive him. If our life together is based on a lie, how can I ever trust what comes next?”

  “For the love of God, woman, you’re dramatic. This isn’t Gone with the Wind here; this is you and Noel in New York City making a mess that doesn’t need making. If you get back together, I promise the worst thing that will happen is that I’ll miss you because you’ll never be at home. And while I might have once thought that to be a horrible thing, I now think I might like to invite Kwon over without you being there boohooing all over the throw pillows.”

  “How are things going with you guys?” I ask. “You’ve been pretty tight-lipped since the other night.”

  “What’s to say? My nail man and I are eating a meal or two together and are having a nice time.”

  “Your nail man?” I look at her with one eyebrow raised in disbelief that she’s trying to sell me that line.

  “I’m pulling a you, when you and Noel got together. I’m keeping things close to the vest for now. But don’t worry, if we confess our love to each other, I’ll let you know.” She wipes a tear from my eye before pinching my cheeks and asking, “Now, what are you going to do about him?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m going to finish dinner and see what happens. I just don’t think I can forgive him.”

  We walk back into the dining room together, and I stop dead in my tracks when I see what Noel is up to.

  Chapter Forty

  Noel

  I stand in the center of the dining room, holding a half-full flute, my heart pounding in my ears as I watch the servers fill the last of the champagne glasses I ordered for … well, everyone in the restaurant. It’s my last chance and, by God, I’m going to make it count.

  I glance over to the hall leading to the ladies’ room and see it’s go-time. Aimée and Teisha are huddled together, wearing matching expressions of confusion.

  Well, this is it, you wanker. You better make this work.

  Clearing my throat, I raise my voice so no one will miss a word of the humiliating display I’m about to give them. “Good evening, everyone. I apologize for interrupting your meal. My name is Noel Fitzwilliam and I am a very boring, straight-edged, workaholic Brit. I’m also very private. I don’t even strike up a conversation with the person next to me on a flight, let alone an entire restaurant full of people. I detest being the center the of attention.”

  Okay, now’s not the time to ramble. Just get to the point. “But recently, I met a woman who has changed my life. The sun is warmer when she’s around; colors are more vivid; even food tastes better—especially gingersnaps.” I gesture to her. “There she is. In the navy dress.” I wait while everyone turns to look. “The only woman I have ever loved.”

  Good God, I’m sweating like a fat man in a sauna. “Unfortunately, I messed the entire thing up by lying to her. I was desperate to spend time with her and I was a total coward by pretending I was someone else.”

  “Boo!” a lady in a red dress yells.

  I turn to my critic, “You are exactly right, madam. It was stupid and unforgivable.”

  A man at her table puts one hand next to his mouth and says, “Who’d you pretend to be? A prince or something so she’d think you have money?”

  It is so hot in here. Like stiflingly hot. Why didn’t I notice how bloody hot it was before? “Oh, um, I wasn’t expecting questions actually, ummm … but no. I pretended to be my assistant.”

  “So you pretended you didn’t have money?” the man asks, screwing up his face in confusion.

  “Yes, but that’s beside the point because—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” the woman in red says. “For the sake of setting the proper scene, you’re saying you do have money.”

  “I … I do all right, I suppose.” Oh bollocks, this was the worst idea I’ve ever had. You know, other than the whole texting thing.

  “Hey, he makes enough to buy each of us a glass of the good stuff,” a man in the back corner yells, earning him a laugh.

  I nod in his direction, uncomfortably. Then I continue, “The thing is, you should never lie, especially not to the woman you’d lay down your life for. But I did and she rightly showed me the door.” Before people can start cheering her sensible decision, I quickly add, “My greatest regret is that I broke her trust. And so, Aimée, my love, I will respect your wishes, but if you will indulge me, I’d like to send you on your way with a little song by the great Ms. Whitney Houston.”

  I glance at Byron who’s shaking his head and doing the “cut” sign across his neck repeatedly. Byron was there when I was asked to mouth the words to “Good King Wenceslas,” and he hugged me after school when I had a bit of a cry about it. But that was a long time ago. Maybe the honesty of my feelings will magically make me better. Sod it, here I go …

  “Iffffffff I … should stay, I would only be in your way …” I start to talk/sing slowly. Aimée looks like she’s in physical pain. Maybe I should stop. No, no, no stopping. I need a grand gesture here—John-Cusack-with-a-boombox-blasting-Peter-Gabriel grand. Alas, I have no boombox, so I gird my loins and plug on.

  “So I'll go but I know, I'll think of you …” and now I just say this bit because there’s no way I can hit the right notes. “… every step of the way.”

  Christ, the talking is somehow worse. I never should have done this. And now for the chorus. I really have to go for it. I take a deep inhale then belt out, “Aaaaannnnnddddd IIIIIIIIeeeeeeIIIIIIIeeeeeeeeeeIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love you-hoooooooooooooo ooo ooo!”

  Christ almighty, I’m bad. Peter starts toward me and joins in with his arms out to the sides as he belts out the chorus Pavarotti-style. I’m momentarily rendered mute, but then just knowing that his glorious baritone is going to drown me out, I let my volume increase.

  Registering the shock on my face, Peter leans in and tells me, “I’m only a sommelier at night. I teach opera lessons during the day.”

  “Oh, very nice,” I compliment, before we both turn back to Aimée and belt out the line about life treating her kind. By the time we get to the chorus again, most of the patrons have joined in, totally drowning me out, including Byron who is now behind me, pushing me toward the woman I love.

  When I reach her, my heart leaps because I can see love shining in her eyes. After the last line is sung, everyone goes quiet as I’m sure they’re rapt to see what the idiot Englishman is going to do now. I say, “My darling, I love you. I will always love you. But I understand if you can’t give me another chance. I don’t deserve it.”

  She blinks quickly. The tension in the air is so thick, I’m pretty sure even the kitchen staff are waiting with bated breath.

  Aimée shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t …”

  She hurries past me, leaving me with a hundred or so people as witness to the exact moment my heart breaks forever. I turn and watch as she winds her way through the tables, then I speak up, “As you wish.”

  She stops where she is and puts her head down, then turns to me. “Really? You’re going full Princess Bride on me?”

  “I would go Full Monty on you if I thought it would help.” Gauging her reaction to see if my stripping naked in front of a room full of strangers would be sufficient humiliation for her to forgive me—some of them have been filming me with their cameras for the YouTube video that will undoubtedly go viral by morning—I beg
in to unbutton my shirt.

  “No.” She lifts her hands in the air and lets them drop by her sides in frustration. “Dammit, Noel, you are the most infuriating man on the planet! Can’t you see I’m trying to hate you?”

  Byron and Teisha both shove me. I stumble a little then walk toward her, meeting her in the middle of the restaurant. When I reach her, she has tears running down her cheeks and I’m more than a little terrified she’s going to go into the ugly cry … with the snot and everything, but she doesn’t. She sighs and shakes her head at me. “I want to hate you, so so badly, but then you do something insane like totally humiliating yourself by singing Whitney Houston in front of all these people and … and … it was the most stupidly perfect thing you could do. I just … I just … I can’t be mad at you anymore.”

  “Does that mean you’ll come back to me?” I ask. Her answer holds the key to my happiness.

  She shakes her head sadly.

  It’s like an atomic bomb has landed on my heart. When I can finally breathe again, a sob chokes me as I tell her, “I will never stop wanting you to have everything you desire in life, everything you deserve.” I reach up and tentatively touch her cheek with the backs of my fingers, feeling her soft skin against mine. “I hope you find someone worthy of your love.”

  Aimée nods and sniffles. “Thanks, me too.”

  When she turns and walks out, I know, that just like Jerry McGuire I’ll never be complete again. Byron comes to stand next to me and puts his arm on my shoulder. “That isn’t how I thought this would play out.”

  “Me neither,” I say, sucking in a breath.

  “You should never have sung to her,” he adds, with a little shake of his head. “Not Miss Whitney, anyway. That was a stretch.”

  I nod my head heavily as I pull my wallet out of my jacket pocket and hand it to him. “Can you pay my tab for me? I’m going to head out.”

  “Sure thing, Noel.”

  My shoulders slump as I keep my gaze on the carpet to avoid all the faces staring at me with abject pity. When I get outside onto the sidewalk, the cool evening air reminds me to breathe again. I turn right and start walking, not caring where I end up. When I’m about halfway down the block, I hear her call my name. I turn and see Aimée, smiling through her tears.

  As she runs up to me, my entire body feels numb. Holding out one hand, she says, “Hi, I’m Aimée. I’m a caterer. I plan to be a huge success in my field, so I’m going to be very busy. Some might even say a workaholic.” She continues, “I plan to get married someday, and have a bunch of kids, so if either of those ideas scare you—especially the first one—just say so because it’s a deal-breaker.”

  I shake my head and grin, my entire chest feeling like it’s going to explode with happiness.

  She keeps talking. “I like long romantic walks to the fridge, puppies, and having my feet rubbed. I won’t put up with being lied to because I’d never do that to someone I love.”

  I can’t seem to find the right words. Is she coming back to me here? Now? Before I can ask, she continues, “I’m pretty sure you look like someone I could love.”

  “Aimée … I …”

  “You said you wished more than anything that you could start over so I’m going to let you, but just once, you got that?”

  Nodding my head, I wrap my arms around her. “Got it.” I hold on tight, afraid to believe in my good fortune. But when she doesn’t dissolve like an ethereal mist, I finally believe this is really happening. “I’m Noel and I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I like watching you dance around the kitchen while you cook and making you laugh. I love rubbing your feet and your legs, and your ... back. I adore hearing you moan when you eat, so much so, that I want to take you to every good restaurant in the entire world, just to hear that sound.” I take a deep breath before saying, “I will never lie to you, not even in those situations where you may actually want me to, like say … you buy some trousers that aren’t exactly flattering, and you just want me to say they look great on you. I’ll tell you the God’s honest truth.”

  Aimée tilts her head, her eyes narrowing a little. “Whoa, let’s not get carried away. White lies used to preserve my self-esteem are perfectly acceptable.”

  Grinning, I move in closer and gently brush my lips against hers. “I don’t know … I’d hate to risk it.”

  Laughing, she says, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

  And I do.

  And she kisses me right back. Before we forget we’re standing on a public street in the heart of New York City, I pull back and say, “I will always love you.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m always going to love you too. But no more singing in public, okay? Like never, ever.”

  “You poor, poor woman,” I murmur against her lips. “Do you want to go back to my place? I have mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

  “Yeah, I do,” she says, grinning.

  “Wait, I need to do one thing first,” I say. Dragging her back down the block, I pull her into the restaurant, and straight to the dining room. Raising my voice, I yell, “She changed her mind! She loves me after all!”

  The patrons all stare, but they don’t stand and start clapping like I thought they would. A couple of them give me the thumbs up, but then they all go back to eating. The lady in the red dress, who is now on her way out, pats me on the arm. “That’s nice, dear.”

  “Thank you,” I say, my face flaming with embarrassment. “I’m quite thrilled actually,” I say to her back as she walks away.

  “Okay, she’s gone,” Aimée says. “You done?”

  “Yeah, I just thought they’d all want to know for some reason,” I tell her.

  She tugs my hand in the direction of the door. “It’s New York, honey. Nobody cares.”

  Epilogue

  “Noel, would you hurry up already?” I ask my boyfriend who’s dawdling like I’ve never seen before.

  “I cannot believe we’re going to be on the Today Show. It’s rather mortifying, no?” he grumbles.

  “You’re the one who executed the whole restaurant scene, not me.” Grabbing my purse off the console, I add, “Forty million views in ten months is pretty impressive.”

  He cringes. “What would happen if we didn’t go?”

  “Oh, we’re going!” I tell him. “Think of the exposure for Nibbles and Noshes! I’m going to drop the name of my company at least three times while we’re on the air.”

  “You’re already busier than I can stand,” he says while walking toward me to pull me into his arms. “If you take on any more business, I’ll never see you.”

  “Says the man designing the most innovative skyscraper in the history of skyscrapers.”

  “I barely work, compared to you!”

  “Don’t worry. Teisha is hiring new people in preparation for the spike in business we’re about to have. Now, come on, we’re supposed to be at Rockefeller Center by five and it’s already four thirty.”

  Noel grabs his jacket. “Fine, but after this, no more. I don’t want them having us back for a yearly reunion or anything.”

  It only takes ten minutes for the town car to reach 1 Rockefeller Plaza this time in the morning. Tanya, the producer in charge of our segment, meets us in the lobby. “Thank goodness you’re here!” she says while tapping on her watch.

  “Are we late?” I ask nervously.

  “Not yet, but we need to get you into makeup and brief you on how your segment is going to go. Follow me,” she says while walking away from us like she’s competing for the title of Speed Walking Champion of the World.

  Tanya shows us to our dressing room, which is a small room with a loveseat and a television. “Makeup will come and get you in a few minutes. After that, wait here until I come back. Just be casual and relaxed and be prepared for Hoda to ask you a thousand questions. I swear, a million of your YouTube hits were hers alone.”

  Well, that certainly sets us up to be rel
axed. What was she thinking?

  After Tanya leaves, Noel says, “We could still make a run for it.”

  “I’m considering it,” I tell him. Unfortunately, we don’t have a chance to seriously discuss that option before the hair and makeup people come in. They lead us to a long counter with mirrors covering the wall above it, and several chairs like you find in the beauty parlor.

  I’m so nervous, I’m practically shaking. The lady doing my makeup says, “Just sit still and be calm. Everyone is nervous before going on.”

  “Do you have any idea who the other guests are today?” I ask, hoping to think about something else, anything other than my impending introduction to Hoda and her bazillion viewers.

  “Yeah, we’ve got that old lady from Sagaponack who crocheted the world’s biggest potholder, and Dolly Parton.”

  “Dolly Parton? As in the Dolly Parton?” I ask on the off chance she’s talking about someone’s golden retriever named Dolly Parton. Alas, I’m not holding my breath as this is the Today Show.

  “Yup, the Dolly Parton,” she says while liberally dotting my face with concealer. “She’s always a lot of fun.”

  “Do you get to do her makeup, too?” I ask in awe.

  “Dolly brings her own crew,” she answers, as I wonder about the amount of makeup that woman must go through in a year. She always looks perfect.

  By the time Noel and I are both back in our little dressing room, I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. “Why are we doing this again?” I ask him.

  “You’ve decided you won’t rest until you’re the official caterer to the entire borough of Manhattan. Or so you’ve said,” he reminds me.

  “Right. Yes.” I sit down on the loveseat and put my head between my knees to keep from passing out. We only have minutes before Tanya is back.

  “Okay, let’s go get you mic’d up. You’re on in five.”