Texting The CEO
“My friend’s daughter is returning from Rome….”
“No,” I say instantly.
So much for being open to the idea.
“Felix, you haven’t heard anything about her.”
“I don’t need to,” I say, struggling to keep my voice level, my thoughts instantly going to my mystery girl.
“Why not?” she says. “Do you really want to be alone forever?”
I suppress a groan, something I hate doing when I’m speaking to her.
“Felix,” she snaps.
“What?” I say, struggling to keep my voice level, stunned at the sudden anger in her tone.
“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” she says. “I remember how you used to be, telling it to me straight, before the cancer. Lately, especially since the prognosis has gotten worse, it’s like you think I’m made of glass.”
I bury my head in my hands, breathing steadily. It’s just like Mom to be able to pinpoint the truth of the matter instantly, to get to the heart of an issue without even needing to ask me what’s wrong.
“I don’t want to meet with your friend, Mom,” I tell her. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs. It’s quiet, as though she’s moving the phone away from her mouth. I’ve seen her do that a few times, turn her head to sigh or roll her eyes, and I just know that’s it.
“Okay, Felix. That’s fine.”
She sounds so beaten down, so defeated. My heart thunders as I think about her, my mother, leaving this world without knowing I’ve found somebody or that I could find somebody. I wonder if that could lead to something dreadful, worsening her condition.
My mind spins with all the horrible possibilities.
“I’ve found somebody,” I blurt, driven by the cruel thoughts. “But it’s complicated.”
“Tell me everything. Now.”
I explain from the beginning. I start with the text out of the blue and progress to what happened almost a week ago. It seems crazy that so much time has passed. Every day seems to stretch longer, a little darker, and all because I can’t text with a stranger.
A stranger I only spoke to for maybe twenty minutes in total.
“So you get it,” I finish. “I’ve gone completely insane, Mother.”
She laughs softly. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, Felix. But, as far as I’m concerned, this is good news.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“Because you’ve found somebody. I don’t care how odd the circumstances are. I don’t care if you think it makes you crazy. You need to pursue this.”
I think about my plan, finding her phone number, confirming she’s not who I think, which is pretty much a guarantee.
I sigh, massaging my forehead, trying to work out some of the tension.
“But Mom, the chances are so low.”
“Of what?”
“Of her being….”
I can’t finish the sentence. While I gave her the basic facts of what happened between my mystery Fiona and me, I left out the part where I feel like my soul is beating in time with my frenetic heart, where I can’t take being apart from her any longer
Which is utter nonsense because we’ve never been together, to begin with.
“Of her being happy about me finding her,” I say. “She clearly doesn’t want to talk anymore.”
“You have to try, son,” she says. “You have to.”
I bite down, drawing in a heavy breath through clenched teeth. There’s no way to avoid the desperation in my mothers' voice.
I can’t say no.
Which means I’m going to shatter my mystery girl into a million pieces.
When I learn the truth, the woman of my dreams won’t exist anymore.
“Okay, Mom,” I say. “I’ll try.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fiona
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks from her side of the couch.
We’re both tired after work, sitting on the couch and reading…or trying to.
I keep getting distracted by thoughts of Felix, the same way I have for the past five days. My body sparks any time I think about his lean, hard-muscled physique. Or his eyes…or his warm, strong arms wrapped around me as I cradle our children. One big fuzzy ball of affection.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“I don’t know why you don’t text him again,” she says.
I roll my eyes, already shaking my head. She’s been saying the same thing ever since I told her what happened.
“It’s easier this way,” I murmur.
Rachel closes her book heavily, letting me know I’m not going to be able to brush her off. She glares at me as she lays the book in her lap.
“Why?” she says. “And I want a real answer this time. Every time I ask you, you shrug me off. What’s going on, Fiona?”
“What’s going on is he’d puke if he saw me,” I snap. “What’s going on is I need to live in the real world. I can’t live in this make-believe fantasy land where a woman like me gets to be with a CEO. I just can’t, Rachel, okay? It’s easier because if we never meet, I don’t have to face the facts…the facts that I’m not the sort of woman he’d want, ever.”