Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(30)
If you have a hotel hookup who can get me a room for the next few days I'd appreciate it. I can't leave at the moment as apparently my grandfather has decided he can dictate my life from beyond the grave.
Regards,
Trystan L. Montgomery
* * *
P.S. Your friend Annie has some colorful language. She seemed to get annoyed when there was no return text from you, so of course I had to answer. It was about me, after all. Don't worry, she doesn't know it wasn't you.
email to trystan
To: tmontgomery
From: tmontgomery
Subject: City Vs. Town
* * *
Dear Trystan L. Montgomery
* * *
I think you'll find that if a town has a cathedral, it becomes, by definition, a city. We have a cathedral. Several in fact. The spires of the City of Charleston have graced many a postcard. I believe you might have been in one of them just two days ago. Perhaps you spontaneously burst into flames upon entering and that's why you are so ornery?
I'm sad for your lack of accommodations, I wish you good luck in that endeavor. It is indeed the largest festival of its kind in the United States, having exceeded the festival in Spoleto, Italy, from whence it was derived.
It is so popular, in fact, that I often stay with my colorful friend, Annie and rent my place out. But Annie has recently had a baby, my godson. She's quite sleep deprived, so I'm sure anything she says can be dismissed. Perhaps you could see your way to forwarding her contact information to me (this is my second request).
Perhaps you should stay with family.
The Ordinary was a satisfactory choice for dinner.
Regards,
Emmaline A. Dubois
* * *
P.S. I have greatly enjoyed corresponding with your matches on your various dating apps. It's been quite . . . educational to realize all the different expectations they have, depending on the app. So fun! And naughty! Don't worry, they don't know it's not you, Jeff . . .
email to emmy
To: tmontgomery
From: tmontgomery
Subject: Privacy (zero expectation of)
* * *
Dear Emmaline Angelique Dubois
* * *
Can I rent your house, condo, or whatever?
* * *
Regards, Trystan L. Montgomery
* * *
P.S. I can't believe the smut on your Kindle app. You've made me blush. I think you might be naughtier than I'll ever be. I found the one about the mafia boss to be particularly shocking.
email to trystan
To: tmontgomery
From: tmontgomery
Subject: Re: Privacy (huge expectation of)
* * *
Dear Mr. Montgomery
* * *
No, you may not.
* * *
Regards, Miss Dubois
* * *
P.S. In the interests of expediency, I went ahead and responded to the last six girlfriends who texted you and asked them all to head to your condo at nine p.m. next Thursday. I'm sure this will make your dating life more organized.
email to emmy
To: tmontgomery
From: tmontgomery
Subject: Best behavior
* * *
Emmy
* * *
Why not? Are you a hoarder?
* * *
Regards,
Trystan
* * *
P.S. Is your hair color natural?
end of emmy chapter
My stomach was teeming with slippery ribbons of laughter, outrage, lust, and excitement and I was utterly nauseated. I plugged in Trystan's phone to charge without replying to his email and set it down on the counter of the small apartment. I stared at the black rectangle like it was a live thing that might spontaneously fly up and smash me straight through the heart. Backing slowly away, I changed into my sweatpants and rolled out my yoga mat with shaking fingers. By the time I'd made it through fourteen Chaturangas, I'd finally managed to focus on nothing but my breathing and my muscles. I was centered. Focused.
And still obsessed.
I surrendered into Child's pose, my body folded and my forehead to the ground.
I had it so, so, bad.
16
Trystan
I probably shouldn't have made friends with the bartender at The Ordinary because my gin tolerance is apparently quite low. I've been flirtmailing with Emmy, and it's gotten out of hand. When she doesn't write back, I'm left with a rock in my stomach that feels a lot like it could be rejection, if I was sure I knew what that felt like. Most of all, I'm asking myself how I can be behaving this way with someone I've laid eyes on for approximately ten seconds at the very most.