Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(85)

"Excuse me?" a female voice says behind me.

I move to the side. "Sorry," I say so she can pass.

"No, I wanted to tell you that you have something stuck to the back of your shorts."

She's a pretty brunette in a skirt suit and heels.

"What?"

"Turn around," she says, laughing. I smile, bemused, and do what she says. "Okay. Look."

I look back to see her dangling a pale pink scrap of elastic, silk, and lace. Frowning, I bob my head back.

"You're embarrassed. Sorry. But it happens all the time. Static cling from the dryer."

"Those aren't mine." I'm so confused.

She laughs again and presses them into my hand. "You don't seem like you wear women's underwear. Though who knows? But they belong to someone special, I hope?"

I used Emmy's washer and dryer . . . wore these exact running shorts in Charleston. "Yes, someone special," I echo.

"She's probably been wondering where they are. Have a good day."

She strolls off. And I'm left holding an empty coffee cup, a smashed phone, and yet another pair of Emmy's undergarments. Twice in one day.

What in the actual fuck is this life?





email to emmy





To: edubois

From: tmontgomery

Subject: Haunted



* * *



I'm being haunted by your underwear.



* * *



Regards,

Trystan L. Montgomery





end of trystan chapter





On Saturday, I visit the smart phone store and buy a new phone. Thank God I have everything backed up, I think, and have a brief understanding of what Emmy must have felt like to have lost her phone and have nothing backed up. It's incredible how much we depend on these things.

But I'm grateful.

Without one, I'd never have met her.

I re-download all my apps. Well, not all of them. I don't replace all my dating apps, except one. Then I go through my recovered texts from the days Emmy had my phone and save D'Andre's number, her friend Annie's number that I'd forwarded to her, and begin to make plans.





40





Emmy





I'm not doing it!" I stressed to Annie and Armand as we hung out in his empty café on Monday after work. Armand was chopping and prepping for the next morning. Annie and I nursed a huge slice of gluten-free carrot cake.

"Why?" asked Annie. "You told me you were ready to start putting yourself out there again. This was your idea."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

Annie and Armand glanced at each other.

"What?" I asked them.

"Can I see?" asked Annie, looking at my phone.

I handed it to her. "Be my guest. I thought we were getting together to celebrate your return to work and my promotion. Now it feels like an intervention."

She opened up the Whirl app I'd downloaded. I'd seen it on Trystan's phone but never tried it myself. It seemed like the least obscene of all the dating apps though. At Annie's insistence, I'd gone ahead and put my profile up over my lunch break.

"You have a notification," she said.

"Already?" I asked, surprised.

"She does?" Armand came around from the kitchen area.

I frowned. "That was quick. God, don't open it," I squeaked and leaned across to try and grab my phone.

Annie held it out of reach. "Why?"

I swallowed. "I don't know. Just—I'm not ready."

"Aye, Madre. You will never be ready," Armand grumbled.

"Too late," Annie sang. "Oh, he's close by too."

"Wait, how do you know that? I thought this wasn't supposed to be like Tinder?"

She shrugged. "Oh, there's a location setting you can turn on. I turned it on."

"Oh my God," I moaned. "If I get kidnapped or killed, it's on your hands."

"Oh. Wow." Annie's mouth dropped open.

"What?" I lunged for the phone. Annie stood, abruptly moving it out of reach as Armand joined her.

"Yes," Armand said and smiled at me. "It is just as I hoped."

Annie pressed her hand to her cheek. "Holy shit, he's hot." Then she looked to Armand, who nodded and pursed his lips as if to say, "See?"

"Dammit," I said loudly. "Can I at least look at my own phone?"

Annie grinned at me. "So you want to see him now, huh?"

"No. Fine. Yes."

"Let . . . me . . . just . . ." She did something on the screen. "Confirm the match. There." She handed me my phone.

"Wait. What did you do?" I looked down and my heart stopped.

Trystan Montgomery? He filled my screen.

Forget stopped, my heart hurt.

Why would they do this to me? "What the hell is this?" I asked. "Is this a joke?" God, he looked good. He was in a suit, holding . . . wait. Was that a cat? Was that Tuna? "He's holding my cat!" I looked up at my two friends’ smug faces.