The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,110
from him—I pulled up the message and read it. Then I read it again. And again. And then I just stared blankly at my desktop computer screen.
They had found out.
Before I could panic, I made myself stretch my fingers wide and take a calming breath. You already knew this was bound to happen. At least that’s what I told myself.
The more I thought about it, the more I should have been appreciative that the people at the chapel in Las Vegas hadn’t recognized him. Or that people on the street had been oblivious and hadn’t seen us going in and out of there. Or that the receptionist at the acupuncturist hadn’t snapped a picture on her phone and posted it online.
Because I might not understand all people, much less most of them, but I understood nosey folks. And nosey folks would do something like that without a second thought. Yet, I reminded myself that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
It would be fine. So, one gossip site posted about us getting married. Whoop-de-do. There was probably a thousand sites just like it.
I briefly thought about Diana hearing about it, but I’d deal with that later. There was no use in getting scared now. She was the only one whose reaction I cared about. My mom and sisters’ opinions and feelings weren’t exactly registering at the top of my list now… or ever. I made myself shove them to the back of my thoughts. I was tired of being mad and upset; it affected my work. Plus, they’d made me sad and mad enough times in my life. I wasn’t going to let them ruin another day.
Picking my phone up again, I quickly texted Aiden back, swallowing my nausea at the same time.
Me: Who told you?
Not even two minutes passed before my phone dinged with a response.
Miranda: Trevor’s blowing up my phone.
Eww. Trevor.
Me: We knew it was going to happen eventually, right? Good luck with Trev. I’m glad he doesn’t have my number.
And I was even gladder there wasn’t a home phone; otherwise, I’m positive he would have been blowing it up too.
I managed to get back to looking at images on the screen for a few more minutes—a bit more distracted than usual—when the phone beeped again.
It was Aiden/Miranda. I should really change his contact name.
Miranda: Good luck? I’m not answering his calls.
What?
Me: That psycho will come visit if you don’t.
Was that me being selfish? Yes. Did I care? No.
Aiden: I know.
Uh.
Me: You’re always at practice…
Aiden: Have fun.
This asshole! I almost laughed, but before I could, he sent me another message.
Aiden: I’ll get back to him in a couple days. Don’t worry.
Snorting, I texted back.
Me: I’m not worried. If he drops by, I’ll set him up in your room.
Aiden: You genuinely scare me.
Me: You don’t know how many times you barely made it through the day alive, for the record.
He didn’t text me back after that.
* * *
I was in the middle of eating lunch the next day when my phone beeped. So far, I hadn’t gotten any threatening calls or texts from Diana, but I was still a little scared to look at the screen. I actually hadn’t heard from her at all since I’d left her house. That wasn’t unusual, but it still left me feeling a little anxious and a little mad. Luckily, it was Aiden’s name that popped onto the display. I had finally gotten around to changing his contact information.
Aiden: Are you free this Sunday?
I was never free on any day, technically, but his question made me pause.
Me: It depends. Why?
Aiden: Come to my game.
Uh. Was I imagining this? Was he really inviting me to one of his games for the first time in the history of the universe?
Me: I’ve gone to a few of your games.
Aiden: You’ve met me after a game five times.
He remembered that?
Me: I met you after a game five times, but I’ve gone to more than those, thank you.
Aiden: When?
Me: Last season I went to five. The season before that, I went to three. I haven’t gone to any this year though.
Obviously.
Aiden: Why
Me: Because the guy who usually gets me tickets doesn’t play for your team anymore…
Aiden: Zac got you tickets?
Me: Who else would?
Aiden: I could have.
The same person who couldn’t tell me ‘good morning?’ Riiiight.
My phone beeped again.
Aiden: I could get you tickets now. All you have to do is tell me.
There was something about the fact he said ‘tell me’ and not ‘ask’ that made me grin.