“Then give me your phone. We’re setting you up a dating profile.”
I handed her my phone and she created an account for me. I decided not to tell her about Graham for now. It was nice, keeping him my little secret. I watched Joanna type away on the application she’d downloaded onto my phone, then she scooted closer to me as pictures of men flooded my screen.
“It’s like most apps,” Joanna said.
“Mates dot com?” I asked.
“Yep. It’s a U.K.-based dating app, but they’re branching into the U.S. at lightning speed. Haven’t you seen the commercials on television?”
“I don’t watch much television,” I said. “It’s mostly Netflix over here.”
“Well, it’s a good site. I’m sure you’ll find someone here. But it’s set up like most dating apps are nowadays. You swipe left if you don’t like them, right if you do. Swiping right puts them in your messages so you can talk to them, and swiping left blocks you from them so they don’t have a chance to swipe on you and message you.”
“What if I swipe right on them and they swipe left on me?” I asked.
“Then their name grays out if it’s in your messages. Not the best system, but it works. And it gives you a chance to reach out to them before they judge you on what you look like.”
“You saying I’m not pretty?” I asked with a grin.
“I’m saying I know you’re self-conscious about how you look. This app doesn’t require both of you to agree on it before you can contact him, so it gives you an extra shot to show them the Libby I know to exist. You’re hot as hell, Libby. You’ve got curves most women try to get surgically.”
“I don’t know why,” I said, murmuring.
“But having that extra security blanket might help you to get bolder when it comes to your dating life.”
“You just want to scroll through guys with me, don’t you?” I asked.
“Oh, hell yeah I do.”
Joanna and I sat on the couch, swiping through guys as we sipped on our wine. Joanna kept pointing out details she liked. The color of a guy’s eyes or how big his arms were. How kind his smile seemed or how chiseled his stomach was. But I wasn’t looking for that. Not really. I was more concerned about what they enjoyed. The things they liked doing. It didn’t make sense for me to try and talk with a guy who enjoyed sailing and parachuting when I was a homebody who read books, binged television shows, and ate Chinese takeout more than I cooked in.
“What about him?” Joanna asked. “He’s pretty cute.”
I almost spat out my wine once I figured out who I was looking at.
I swiped right immediately and clicked on my messages. His picture was there, with that beautiful smile and those piercing blue eyes. I tapped his picture and his profile popped up, and I started flipping through his pictures. There were more of him. Pictures of him smiling in a bathing suit with his rippling abs. Pictures of him on a luxurious airplane ride in a tailored suit
Pictures of him hunched over a book reading as his arms bulged from his button-down shirt.
“Oh shit. He’s a reader like you, too. Message him, Libby. Message him now.”
It was Graham.
I was staring at Graham.
I flipped back to my messages as a smile crawled across my face. I felt Joanna get off the couch and head towards the kitchen. The glugging of wine could be heard as she filled her glass back up, then she came and sat back down beside me before peering over my shoulder.
“Did you send him something? What did you say?” she asked.
“I asked him what book he was reading in the picture. I can’t tell which one it is.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “No cute little pick up line or something to make you stand out?”
“I don’t think I’ll need it with him,” I said with a grin.
“Have you seen those pictures of his house we just flipped through?”
“What makes you think those are of his house?” I asked.
“Why the hell else would he have them up there? What guy puts random pictures of a house that’s not his on his dating profile?”
“To make women think it’s his house when really he lives in a shack on the side of the road?” I asked.
“But that suit. I know my suits. That’s a tailored Armani suit. This man, whoever he is? He’s loaded. Go back. Let me see his face again.”
“Joanna-”
“Just… go back, Libby.”
I flipped back to the main picture on his profile and Joanna gasped. She ripped my phone from my hand as her wine sloshed around in her glass, threatening to spill over onto her lap.
“What in the world?” I asked. “What is wrong with you?”
“You have no idea who that is, do you?” Joanna asked.
“It says his name is Graham,” I said. “Says here it’s the owner and CEO of his own company.”
“You really need to get out more,” she said breathlessly. “Sweetheart, that’s Graham Alexander.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
Joanna looked at me as if I’d swallowed a bug.
“That name doesn’t ring a bell at all?” she asked.
“Is it supposed to?”
“You pass the damn building every day when you go to the law firm,” she said. “Galex Technologies? That massive black building with the tinted windows and the valet parking?”
“Wait… what?” I asked.
“Galex? G. Alex? Graham Alexander? Sweetheart, the man you just messaged is Graham Alexander. The creator and CEO of the biggest technological security company in the world.”
I felt my stomach drop to my toes as my phone lit up in my hand. I looked down at my messages, watching Graham’s name blink at me. The pieces started falling into place with our conversations at the wedding. What he did for a living. How he mentioned he worked too hard and didn’t have time for a traditional relationship. How wonderful he had looked in that very expensive tuxedo.
I felt my face paling as Joanna looked over my shoulder.
“Did he respond? Shit, Libby. He responded. Click the message! What did he say?”
I opened up the message as my hands began to tremble.
And we meet again. Libby, it is wonderful to see your face pop up on my phone. The book I’m reading is one of my guilty pleasure books, Gone Girl. Ever read it?
I scanned the message over and over again as a bright smile crossed my cheeks.
“‘And we meet again’? Libby, what in the world does that mean? Do you know this man? And if so, then you have some serious stories to tell. He’s talking to you like he knows you.”
“I know he is,” I said with a grin.
Then, I sent him a message back.
I have read it. Even went to see the movie. Though I’m one of those people who will always devoutly believe the book is better than the movie.
“Okay, I want all the details. What have I missed, what have you left out, and how do you know the nation’s richest technological billionaire?” Joanna asked.
“If I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself, okay? It’s not… like me to do things like this. I’m still sort of wrapping my mind around it myself,” I said.
“Does this have anything to do with the revelation from this past weekend? How you want to move forward in your life and branch out?”
“Sort of, yes,” I said with a grin.
“Well, then I’m messaging the husband, telling him I’m crashing here, then we’re opening up the second bottle of wine I brought.”
“There’s another one?” I asked.
“Yep. Give me your glass. You're good with me crashing on your couch, right?”
“You know I am.”
“Good. Now give me that empty wine glass. It’s practically begging to be filled again.”
I grinned as my phone lit up in my hand again.
“What did billionaire handsome man say?” Joanna asked.
“He said, ‘I subscribe to that theory as well, but I don’t
get out to watch a lot of movies anyway.’”
“Tell him you’ll gladly make a movie with him,” she said.
“Joanna!”
“What!? He’s hot! I’d consider it,” she said as she poured me another glass of wine.
I typed another message back to him before I closed the dating app.
“Wait, what happened? Where did our entertainment for the night go?” Joanna asked.
“Just be patient,” I said with a grin.
Then, my text message tone rang out into the room.
“No… you didn’t,” she said.
“Maybe I did,” I said as I took my glass from her.
“Who are you and what have you done with my Libby?” she asked.
“Do you want to know the story of this past weekend or not?” I asked.
“Oh, I want to know all of it. And leave out none of the details.”
Eight
Graham
I opened the app on my phone and allowed my confidence to take over. I wanted something with Libby, I didn’t know what, but something.
“So, how did girl’s night go?” I typed.
“It went well. I don’t get to see Joanna as often as I’d like, with her being a wife and a mother. So her staying over was really nice,” Libby said.
“How long has she been married?”
“Long enough for her wardrobe to morph from nighttime dresses and high heels to sweatpants and flip flops.”
“It happens to even the best of people,” I said.
“How was the rest of your weekend?”
“Boring, if you compare it to the night we had. How was yours?”
“Full of applying to other jobs to see if there’s anything out there I’d prefer more than what I do now.”
“What prompted that switch?” I asked.
“Being with you,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“What happened between the two of us was something I never do. Ever. But when it happened and after it was done, I felt… rejuvenated. Like taking that step out onto that limb paid off in a way I could’ve never foreseen. I want that in other areas of my life. I want to be happy instead of simply content.”
“I’m glad our encounter was seen in a positive light. I, myself, enjoyed it greatly.”
“You don’t have to pay the compliment back. I was merely being honest,” she said.
“I don’t pay compliments, Libby. I tell the truth. I enjoyed my time with you and there was a part of me that wasn’t ready for our encounter to end.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because what you wanted was a date for a wedding to get your parents off your back. In some ways, I felt as if I took advantage of the situation. In other ways, I feel like I didn’t do enough.”
“If you would’ve said something, I probably would’ve been up for it. I mean, we’d already slept together. What more could we have possibly gotten into?” she asked.
“I could think of a few other things…”
“I’m sure you could,” she said.
“So, reading anything interesting?”
“I started a new book the other day. It’s called The Books Of Fell. Three books in one, and it’s sort of like a mystery-suspense trilogy.”
“Sounds intriguing. Is the majority of what you read fiction?”
“Mostly. I read a few biographies, but I enjoy fiction much better.”
“Why?” I asked.
“It helps me to escape my world for a little bit.”
“Do you not enjoy your world?”
“It is what it is. I live alone in a studio apartment on the outskirts of Chicago with my cat. Not much excitement happens over my way.”
“Please tell me it’s not on the south side of Chicago.”
“I don’t live in the middle of the city, if that’s what you’re asking. Why?”
“You’re in a dangerous area for a woman living by herself. Do you have a way to defend yourself if something happens?”
“I carry a flashlight-taser combination with me in my purse with an LED bulb in it. If blinding them doesn’t work, I can beat them into submission before tasering them until they drool.”
“It’s better than nothing,” I said.
“Why are you so worried all of a sudden?”
“Someone should worry for your safety.”
“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to do that?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“I… don’t know. People don’t usually worry about me is all.”
“Your father doesn’t worry about you?”
“My father would wash his hands of me if he could. My mother and my father worry to a point where it’s unnatural and unhealthy for them. But they worry about all the wrong things.”
“Such as?”
“When I’m going to get married and have kids. Not so much where I live or how I’m doing financially.”
“Your parents really do have a backwards way of looking at things,” I said.
“And welcome to why I don’t do many family reunions. Their worrying is more than I can handle sometimes, and I don’t even want to talk about the bickering.”
“Bickering?” I asked.
“They’re divorced.”
“Ah. That type of bickering. I’m familiar with it when it comes to my friend Jake. Divorced twice, massive alimony payments to each, and they fight like cats and dogs.”
“Should I ever get married one day, he’s stuck with me. I’m only traveling that road once.”
“I’m hard pressed to think anyone would see themselves as ‘stuck’ with you,” I said.
“I’m a homebody. Boring, I guess. I’d rather binge-watch television shows and have movie marathons than get out and do anything. As showcased by the size of my stomach.”
“I’m only going to say this once, and then it’ll never be repeated. Your body is beautiful, Libby. And I know that firsthand. If you ever demean yourself that way to me again, there will be consequences.”
“I don’t know. That sounds kind of fun. What kind of consequences are we talking about?”
“Not the cheeky kind,” I said.
“Okay. I’m sorry. But… you… really think I’m beautiful?”
“I do. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Really. You’ve been stuck there ever since last weekend, and I don’t know why.”
“Thanks?”
“This is just as new for me as it is for you. I’m a busy man with urges and needs. It’s not beneath me to keep a one-night stand or two on my speed dial. It’s the way I’ve run my life for a few years now. But usually, once the night is done my mind is back where it belongs. Focused on my company.”
“Are you telling me it isn’t?” she asked.
“It’s been hard this week. If I’m being completely honest, there have been times I’ve tried looking out for you as I walked down the sidewalk.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know it’s been hard not thinking about you, too.”
“I’m glad I could leave such an imprint,” I said.
“Graham?”
“Yes?”
“If I ask you something, will you promise not to get upset?” she asked.
“I can promise I’ll do my best.”
“During my girl’s night, my friend recognized you. I mean, knew who you were. It never occurred to me that Galex Technologies was you.”
“That would be me, yes.”
“I pass that building every day when I go into the law firm to work,” I said.
“Then I’ve probably seen that piece of shit car you drive pass by a few times without realizing it’s been you.”
“Hey, I’m very proud of that car. It’s not much, but I bought it with my own money.”
“Then it’s a fabulous car that… has seen many memory-making moments.”
“That your kind way of saying it’s still a pie
ce of crap?” she asked.
“Possibly.”
“Does it bother you that I know who you are?”
“It would’ve in the beginning, but you were bound to find out eventually.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, who you were,” she said.
“Because one of the draws to you at the wedding was the fact that you didn’t know who I was. You weren’t clamoring for my wallet or wondering what gifts I was going to present you. Your mind wasn’t altered by the interviews I’ve given and you weren’t looking at me through the lens of my success. I was simply Graham, some guy who wanted to help.”
“So… people treat you differently because of your success,” she said.
“The richer I got, the more it changed. But yes, I’m treated differently and held to a different set of expectations when I’m around people. Especially women. But that wasn’t the case at the wedding and I figured if I was never going to see you after it then what was the point in spoiling it?”
“I guess we went about this ‘one night thing’ all wrong, huh?”
“I’d say we’re shit at it, yes. But, since we’ve established that we’re terrible at it, could I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Would you like to accompany me to dinner Saturday evening?”
“As in… tomorrow Saturday?” she asked.
“Yes. I could pick you up around seven? Or we could meet somewhere, if that makes you more comfortable?”
“Meeting somewhere sounds fine. And I would love to, Graham.”
“Perfect. How does Boka sound? Around seven tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Sounds like I’ll see you there.”
“Wonderful. I hate to cut the conversation short, but I’ve got a very boring board of investors meeting ahead of me in ten minutes.”
“Don’t let me keep you,” she said.
“Trust me, I’d rather you keep me than them. Their bodies aren’t as soft as yours.”
“If you keep saying those kinds of things, my cheeks are going to hurt so badly they’ll fall off.”
“Then I’m doing my job right. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.”
“See you then, Graham.”
Nine
Quadruplets Make Six Page 5