The Christmas Pact(27)
It’s a shame. This actually could have been a damn cute story. Two people meet because their emails got crossed, they fall in love—yada yada. Things were going great with her until you screwed up. Seriously? Why do men always have to go and ruin a good thing with their asinine behavior?
Thankfully, she’s smart enough to suspect that maybe the fact that you ghosted her has to do with your own fear of getting hurt. I’m proud of that insecure little wench for actually not rushing to blame herself. She’s growing. Which is more than I can say for you.
And if what she suspects is true—that you’re afraid of getting hurt—to you, I say: “Grow some balls!”
She’s expecting a response from me. I want you to know that my answer will be: “Move on.” That’s right. She wrote to me again and asked me if she should contact you, and I’m fully prepared to tell her: “Hell no.” She shouldn’t have to chase after your ass when YOU screwed up.
So, here’s the deal, Kennedy Riley or whatever your name is, I’ll be pressing send on that reply to her in one week. You have that long to find yourself a white horse, make your entrance, and get the girl. Oh, and send me a photo. I’m not kidding, either. Otherwise, I’m telling her to forget about your sorry ass. Then I’m suggesting she bone the next man with a pulse who makes eye contact with her. What’s it going to be?
Man up, Kennedy. You know what to do.
Giddy-up!
Soraya Morgan
(Remember, pictures or it didn’t happen. I’ve got that finger on the send button, ready to go.)
What the fresh hell? My mind was racing. So much to process here. But my first question was: Horse? What is she talking about?
Even though I felt badly about looking at Riley’s email to Dear Ida, seeing as though it apparently had to do with me, I needed to read it. My eyes scrolled down farther on the page to check out the forwarded message from Riley that Soraya had so kindly included.
I’d gone over Riley’s words too many times to count. I’d known I’d screwed up, but hearing it from someone else made it impossible to deny. Riley was walking around believing I wasn’t really into her when she was all I could think about.
I made her heart go pitter patter? Well, shit. I didn’t know whether to pat myself on the back or kick myself in my own ass for ruining a good thing.
And on top of my confusion and, yeah, guilt, now I was being threatened by a faceless advice columnist who was determined to lead Riley in a questionable direction if I did nothing. Riley actually listened to what this nutjob had to say. What if Riley did something rash, put herself out there in a way that wasn’t responsible, gave herself to a guy who would never truly appreciate the woman she was…just to spite me?
Now I was not only conflicted—I was jealous as hell.
I moped around all weekend, unsure of how to fix what I’d so royally messed up. I hadn’t answered my phone, or taken a shower, or left the house.
Sunday afternoon, my mom texted to let me know she’d sent me an email she thought I might like. Though I seriously doubted anything could make me feel better, I grabbed my laptop and signed on to my Gmail. Underneath a half-dozen spammy advertisements, there was the message from Mom, with an attachment. I clicked. Her message read:
Before your father and I got married, he told me he knew I loved him long before I ever said the words aloud. He said I had ‘the look of love’. I always thought he was crazy. Until I watched this footage the videographer captured at the wedding reception. Your father was right after all. Sometimes the person in love is the last to know he’s already fallen.
Clicking on the attachment, I sank into the couch as a scene from my brother and Felicity’s wedding reception began to play on my screen. The camera panned around the room and then focused in on Mom and Riley egging each other on out on the dance floor. Riley put her hands on her hips and gyrated in a little circular motion that had me leaning in to get a closer look. My mom watched and attempted to replicate the move, only Mom’s hips didn’t move like Riley’s—thank God for that. The two of them started laughing and held onto each other as they bent over in a fit of giggles, while simultaneously trying to keep up with the others line dancing. They crashed into a few people, and that only made them laugh more. It was funny stuff, and showed a lot of Riley’s true personality. I had a smile on my face while watching it—the first one in days. But I wasn’t exactly sure how footage of the two of them dancing pertained to Mom’s cryptic message.
Then the camera turned. It scanned the room and stopped when it landed on me. I’d had no idea anyone was paying attention to me—much less recording the moment.
The camera zoomed in, and I watched myself watching Riley. Apparently, I was as enraptured with her as the cameraman was with me. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, I stared off at the dance floor. My lips were parted, and every few seconds a little smile would tug at the corners. I followed her every move like she was the only person in the room. Hell, it looked like I had no idea anyone else in the universe existed. Eventually the song ended, and the video clip Mom sent did, too.
I sighed and thought about the last sentence of her message.
Sometimes the person in love is the last to know he’s already fallen.
I didn’t love Riley…did I?