Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3)

by Whitney Dineen

  I have no idea how today’s segment is going to go, but to be honest, I’m kind of looking forward to facing off with Serafina. I’m in exactly the right mood to shut her and her stupid ideas down. Which is what I’m going to do when we get on air.

  When I arrive at the studio, I go directly to my dressing room, then shut the door. I have no desire to see the breaker of my heart before I absolutely must. Justin comes to get me for my hair and makeup, and I sit the entire time while Tony is brushing bronzer on me without saying two words. Luckily, I make it back to the safety of my dressing room without bumping into She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Although my phone buzzes and it’s her.

  Sera: In the name of professionalism, we need to set our personal issues aside on air. Agreed?

  * * *

  ObiWan: What personal issues? You’re the only one with personal issues. I’m normal.

  * * *

  Sera: You know what I’m talking about.

  * * *

  ObiWan: I don’t think I’ve ever known what you’re talking about because it’s all a bunch of nonsense and lies.

  * * *

  Sera: That. What you just wrote. That stays off air.

  * * *

  ObiWan: Fine. I’m a professional (unlike some people). Just know I’m bringing the force of all the science to go after you.

  * * *

  Sera: Oooh, I’m so scared.

  ObiWan: You.

  * * *

  ObiWan: Should.

  * * *

  ObiWan: Be.

  * * *

  Sera: Bring it, nerd.

  Oh, I’ll bring it all right. I’ll bring it big time.

  Thirty-Seven

  Serafina

  Standing in the wings of the Wake Up America! set, I listen while Hal says, “When we come back from commercial break, Serafina and Ben will tell us all about their trip to the Kennedy Space Center!” The live audience claps like they’ve just been promised a brand-new Buick, Oprah-style.

  As soon as I hear, “We’re in commercial.” I hurry out on set and sit down. There are four chairs instead of two, which is the tip-off that Hal and Lacey are going to be sitting in.

  As Ben takes the seat opposite mine, I whisper to Lacey, “I didn’t think you guys were going to be sitting in on our segments anymore.”

  “Just this once. The producer said something about having concerns about you and Ben?”

  “What concerns?” I demand. So help me, if Ben ruins this publicity opportunity for me, I’m going to send daily glitter bombs. Speaking of which, I can’t help but smile when I see some shiny flecks coming from his hairline. Looks like my first offering has already arrived.

  “We’re back in five, four, three…” someone off set counts.

  “Welcome back to Wake Up America!” Lacey practically shouts. “Serafina and Ben are back from their trip to Cape Canaveral, and they have a lot to tell us. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

  “Sure,” Ben says but doesn’t offer anything more.

  “Tell us about it,” Hal encourages.

  “It was hot.” Ben looks beyond annoyed.

  I decide to do my part to keep the conversation rolling. “As you know, Hal and Lacey, Florida is a steamer this time of year, but the Space Center didn’t fail to deliver its one-of-a-kind, out-of-this-world excitement.”

  They both turn to me while Ben stares daggers at me. I continue, “I, for one, have been there no fewer than a half a dozen times and I can’t get enough.”

  “What do you like about it most?” Hal asks.

  “When you see all of those rockets and shuttles and realize they’ve all been to outer space, it’s, well, it’s just awe-inspiring.” I’m playing my part of the happiest woman on the planet. My face is so frozen into place, my cheeks are starting to cramp.

  “I think something else happened in Florida too, am I right?” Lacey asks with a secretive smile on her face.

  Damn, I thought Waltraut was going to tell the producers the kiss tape was off limits. I decide to play dumb on the off chance she’s talking about something else. “What are you referring to, Lacey?” Then I shoot her a panicky look that doubles as a plea not to do her job and show the tape of our kissing.

  Ben seems to finally clue into what’s about to go down, because he jumps to his feet and starts to babble, “I’d like to take a moment and tell our viewers about the fantastic opportunity to send their kids to space camp. The program includes a full week of space activities, like the anti-gravity simulator. All meals and snacks, and even a graduation ceremony and certificate, are provided at no additional cost!” He sounds like he’s trying to sell blenders on late night television.

  Hal interrupts him, “I hear you two got to actually suit up and visit the moon. That had to be fun.”

  Rats, here we go. We watch the television monitor off-set, the same one I know they’ve cut to on camera. Ben and I are hand-in-hand, walking toward the photo op. Video Ben says, “I can’t wear that. How long has it been since it’s been cleaned?” The audience laughs. When he says “You can’t wear loafers in space,” they’re in near-hysterics.

  Then, as expected, they’ve spliced the tape together to show us against the green screen, followed by the photographs we were given at the end — us in the space shuttle, floating in space, and on the moon. As I watch, I feel like a defendant in a courtroom waiting for the jury to come back with a death sentence.

  Lacey looks into the camera and announces, “Just when you think Ben and Serafina will never like each other…” We all turn to look at the screen as our first kiss is unveiled right there on national television. Words escape me. That is one hot kiss and even though I’m annoyed it ever happened, my skin still heats up like I’m a pig on a spit.

  The audience oohs and ahs, whistles and claps. Hal interrupts them by asking, “Is there something you two kids want to tell us?”

  I merely look down and stare at my hands while shaking my head.

  Ben, on the other hand, announces, “I’ll tell you what happened. Serafina here laid on the charm super thick during our trip and I momentarily lost my mind.”

  “Are you saying that what we just saw was a one-off?” Lacey asks.

  I say, “Yes,” at the same time Ben gives a firm, “NO!”

  It’s no wonder they turn away from me and give Dr. Banana Pants all the attention. Ben says, “I thought Serafina and I were actually a couple. But then she came over to my apartment and poisoned my cat.”

  What? “I did not poison your cat! I wanted him to like me and the lady at the deli suggested Cheez Whiz.”

  “Mr. Spock is lactose intolerant and he nearly exploded as a result of all the cheese you gave him.”

  “How was I supposed to know that?” I demand. “Of course, it should have occurred to me that your cat would be just as persnickety as you are.”

  He glares at me for a long second. “You really are evil, aren’t you? Making fun of an innocent cat with a medical condition?”

  “I was making fun of you, bonehead.”

  Nostrils flaring, Ben snaps, “I’m not persnickety.”

  Mimicking him, I say, “I can’t wear a space suit if anyone else has ever been in it. How often do you clean these things?” I thought the audience would laugh along with me, but they’re so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

  “I’m not the one who walked out for no reason.” He’s jabbing his finger in my direction like it’s a weapon.

  “No reason, you say?” I turn to the camera and continue, “Oh, I had a reason.” Then I announce, “I was sitting on Ben’s couch minding my own business when his phone started pinging like someone was sending Morse code. I picked it up to make sure there wasn’t an emergency and that’s when I discovered that Dr. Banana Pants here is seeing another woman.”

  The audience releases a collective gasp that I find quite satisfying.

  “You looked at my messages?” Ben asks incredulously. “That’s a violation of my privacy.”

  “Yo
u slept with me, all the while knowing you were going to get engaged at Gwen’s sister’s engagement party,” I spit. “That’s a violation of decency!”

  His head snaps back and he sputters a bit before he manages to say, “Get engaged? What are you talking about?”

  Folding my arms across my chest, I level him with a death glare. “Read her texts again.”

  “Oh, my God, she was kidding. Gwen is just a friend. She had a family function, and she couldn’t bear to go alone because her family is full of meddling busybodies, one of whom wants to set her up with a chiropractor.” He says chiropractor like it’s a dirty word. That’s so Ben.

  I roll my eyes in disbelief. “So, you thought you’d be her knight in shining banana pants and save her from the awful fate of possibly meeting a medical professional?” I slap the back of my hand on my forehead dramatically. “Oh, the horror!”

  “Medical professional,” Ben scoffs. “Would you let some guy named Dr. Kwak crack your neck?”

  I pause for a second trying to formulate the right response, but he doesn’t let me answer. He mistakes my hesitancy as agreeing with him, and yells, “Exactly!”

  “You don’t believe in chiropractors either?”

  “Believe it. Don’t believe it. It’s irrelevant to me at this point,” he says. “You proved who you are when you walked out the door while I was tending to my gravely ill cat.”

  “Gravely ill?!” I roll my eyes again. “He had the runs, Ben. Big deal.”

  Ben narrows his eyes at me. “Are Libras known for having no empathy or is that just sociopaths?”

  “Speaking of sociopaths, you’re the one who was going on a big date with a ‘friend’ you neglected to mention.”

  Hal and Lacey are turning back and forth between us so quickly they look like their in jeopardy of giving themselves whiplash.

  Ben’s nostrils flare. “I was going to tell you, but you took off before I got a chance, and then you refused to answer any of my phone calls or texts. I was also going to invite you to meet Gwen because I thought — however erroneously — that you two would hit it off since I believed you to be something you are not.”

  “And what exactly is that?” I ask, even though my brain is screaming at me not to go there.

  “Sane.”

  That’s it. I don’t care if I die in prison. I’m going to take off my heel and stab him clean through the temple with it. “I don’t believe for one minute you were going to tell me about Gwen. Your manipulation won’t work on me.”

  “I am not manipulating you!”

  “Kind of sounds like you are,” Lacey says. When I glance at her, she gives me a nod that says I’m on your side, sister.

  Emboldened by her support, I lean toward Ben and hiss, “You’re the two-timing liar. How dare you question my sanity just because I won’t put up with your nonsense.”

  “I am neither a liar nor a two-timer. Your sanity however?” Ben shrugs. “Not so sure about that, cat poisoner.”

  Hal lets out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, things are getting a little awkward here on Wake Up America!”

  “I was trying to be nice to Mr. Spock, you idiot. How could I know he can’t handle dairy?” Turning to Lacey, I say, “What kind of cat can’t have dairy?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve never heard of it myself.”

  Hal cuts in with, “I think we should move on from this, don’t you, Lacey?”

  Lacey turns on Hal. “Do you believe this Gwen person is some old friend who he was just helping out?”

  Hal clearly doesn’t want to get into it, so he just lets his mouth open and close like a middle-aged goldfish in a toupée.

  Ben clears his throat. “We’re actually new friends.”

  “That’s even worse,” Lacey says.

  “Definitely worse. Where’d you meet her?” I demand, knowing how jealous I sound but not caring.

  “For your information, we met through your dating app.” If looks could kill, I’d need last rights.

  “What are you doing on my dating app? You don’t even believe in astrology.”

  Ben shrugs his shoulders. “To be honest, I joined your trial to prove to America that dating for your star sign is a load of crap. I was hoping to debunk your nonsense.”

  I can’t help it; I feel like my heart has been ripped out. “You were trying to hurt me?”

  “No, I was trying to keep a lot of other people from being hurt by you. Astrology doesn’t have magic answers for people to find the perfect partner.”

  I’m so mad I can’t even think straight. The worst part is that Ben might be right because I have had zero luck finding a compatible match for myself. “And you met Gwen on my app?”

  He nods his head, so I continue, “And you like her?”

  “We decided we weren’t a love connection, but we were definitely a good friend connection.”

  Nodding my head, I turn to Lacey and say, “That sounds like success to me. How about you?”

  “It sure does,” she enthuses.

  I turn to Ben, who’s looking at me with what appears to be true regret. I simply shake my head and ask, “How could you do that to me? All the things you said and all the things you did, and the whole time you were purposefully setting out to harm my business? It’s bad enough that you don’t believe in it, but you want to ruin me too?” My voice breaks with emotion.

  Lacey cuts in with, “That’s pretty awful, Ben.”

  My eyes fill with tears and I realize I can’t sit here anymore and pretend not to be wounded to my core. I thought I knew who Ben Williams was. In fact, I thought I loved him, but the truth is, I could never be with someone who would do something so awful to another human being.

  I stand up and tell Hal and Lacey, “I would love to come back another time and talk to you and your audience about the zodiac, but I can no longer be here with Dr. Williams. He is not a good person.” Then I walk off the set, not caring one whit what this will do to my career. My heart is too broken to care.

  Thirty-Eight

  Ben

  My team is deadly silent when I walk into work. No one looks up from their computers and no one says a word, for which I’m glad. I storm past them straight into my office, then close the door and let out a long sigh. I can’t even begin to process what happened today. That was the most embarrassingly asinine argument I’ve ever allowed myself to engage in — on live television, no less. I close my eyes and lean back against the door as every crappy thing Serafina and I said to each other swirls around in my mind like a cyclone of rage. It’s one thing to have a fight and break up with someone, but a whole other level of humiliation to have everyone you’ve ever met watch the entire ugly scene unfold before their eyes.

  All over some stupid misunderstanding that could have been resolved in a two-minute conversation, until she had to go and do that. Sociopath? I’m not the sociopath in this relationship.

  When I finally open my eyes again, I stare at the office Serafina created for me. Dammit. I came here to work and forget all about her, but every inch of this place is her doing. I head straight for the storage closet and get out two empty boxes, then hurry back to my office and immediately start dismantling my cool Gemini decor. Lamps go. Inspirational posters — you’re out of here. I climb onto my desk and peel the black hole sticker off the ceiling, then roll it up and toss it into the box. Next are the Star Trek figurines. Who takes them out of the box? A crazy person, that’s who. The resale value is almost nothing on these things now. My heart squeezes in my chest as I force myself to rid the room of every sign of Serafina Lopez.

  Even though I wouldn’t admit it in a Neptune year (which is the equivalent of 164.8 years on Earth), I’m going to miss my office this way. It was really, really nice. Incomprehensibly, it actually did stimulate my creativity, but that isn’t worth a nanogram of space dust because I’m driven to rid myself of every memory of that woman. Memories cause feelings and I do not need to be reminded about my feelings for her.

  I spend thirty m
inutes trying to dismantle the desk and console table. I’m standing up, stretching out my back when there’s a light knock at the door. “Come in,” I bark.

  Alec pokes his head in. “Hey, Ben, I’ve got my computer running a sequence that’ll take about an hour, so I thought I’d check to see if you needed some help with anything.”

  “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

  He slides in and shuts the door behind him, completely ignoring my words. “You sure? There’s been an awful lot of banging and clanging coming from in here.”

  Throwing my hands in the air, I say, “You’d think this desk was created by the inventor of the Rubik’s Cube. It looks like you’re just supposed to unscrew the legs, but I think you must have to turn some damn security latch first, and I can’t find one.”

  “Uh, I don’t think Ernő Rubik made desks, actually,” he says in a quiet voice.

  “I know that. I was being sarcastic.” Rolling my eyes, I add, “It’s a very complicated design and, of course, she didn’t leave the instruction manual, so I have no idea how to take the damn thing apart.”

  I start to mutter under my breath while I continue my search for a button or screw to remove the legs. “Who doesn’t leave the instruction manual for the user? A sociopath, that’s who.”