Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,97
“You can invite Matthew if you want.”
“Nope, not a chance,” I snap back just as fast. “But I will invite Emma.”
“Emma is in Europe.”
“She’s gonna be here for the dinner.” At least, I hope so. Dad can be so insensitive. Matthew hates everything about Wall Street, but he expected me to invite him to a dinner with bankers and capitalists? How inconsiderate can he be?
“As you wish.” He then glances again at his watch and finally shares one piece of good news, “Well, I have to go. Have a good night.”
“Good night,” I reply as he leaves.
Alone in the kitchen, my gaze goes again to my iPhone, and I open the text app. Curiosity taking over me, I check all the messages I’ve sent to Alex. Despite none having been seen, all have been successfully delivered. And the more I read the texts I sent him, the more I realize how pathetic and desperate I’ve been.
How are you feeling today? Happy to have broken my heart? I barely eat because of you! I hate you! I cringe at this one sent just five days ago.
I hope you never come back to Manhattan! Ever again! I hate you! This one is from six days ago. But it’s still pretty accurate.
Why don’t you reply? Is it too much to ask for one simple answer from you? Can’t we even be friends? I read the last question again. Can’t we even be friends? Well, it seems like we can’t. Damn, not even friendship? How disgusting! After everything we went through together? I huff and shake my head. How stupid I was for texting him like that. Jeez, talk about lack of self-respect. I should win an award for the stupidest girl ever. I’d have done anything for this man. My loyalty to him was unquestionable. But what for? Fucking coward he is. I feel tempted to text something to him again, just for the sake of trolling. But I know it’s a low blow, and I resist the urge to do so. Then I remember the picture Matthew and I took at the exhibit. I go to my photos and have a look at it. Okay, I can’t deny it—we both look great.
Smiling diabolically, I send this photo to Alex instead, and text him something totally unexpected and different from what I have said so far: Hey, I wanted to apologize for the rude texts I sent you over the past two weeks. I’m slowly recovering from our separation, but as you might understand, it was a very unexpected blow, and I doubt I’ll ever forgive you for breaking up with me. I pray one day to be able to forget you though. One of my friends, Matthew Bradford, has been a great support. He’s one of my friends at Columbia, and Dad likes him a lot. Dad even invited him to have dinner with us tomorrow night. I won’t text you ever again, especially if you don’t want me to. I wish you well. Bye. And I press send.
Chapter 25
Manhattan, October 4, 2020
Matthew Bradford
“And you didn’t kiss her?” Pops can be so annoying. Damn. “Not even on the cheek?”
But I remain focused on my hair, aiming for a presentable look. And as I glance at his reflection in the mirror, I say, “Nope. I had a mask on. It’d have been so dumb.” I’m tired of arguing with him, but quite excited for the evening nevertheless. “This is a long-term thing.”
“You’re not gonna wear a mask in their house, right?”
Jeez, I can’t help huffing at his question. “Of course not. I just did it because we were in the car.”
“You’re getting a bit pathetic, son…” And I sigh again at his comment. Living with someone who is your precise opposite in every way is a total nightmare. No wonder Mom left him a long time ago. “You’re young, you shouldn’t…”
“Alright, see ya later.” I give him a quick pat on the back before booking an Uber. Then I rush to my bedroom, pick out a new mask, and leave the house. I find my Uber waiting on the curb and get inside.
“Hey, Matthew, right?” the driver asks.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
As the driver starts his journey en route to Park Avenue, I text Petra: On my way. See ya in 15 mins. And I look once more at the selfie we took yesterday when we were waiting for her chauffeur. Yeah, I must’ve looked at it, like, twenty times by now, but she looks