sticking to her hair, making her look like a crazy woman. ‘It makes perfect sense.’
‘Right, yes, perfect sense,’ I agree, somewhat dubiously.
‘Oh by the way, I’ve just remembered I’ve got something for you.’ Rummaging around under all the magazines, she unearths an envelope. ‘Theatre tickets!’
‘Wow, that’s great, thanks.’ I smile, taking them from her.
‘Who are going to take with you?’ she asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
I hesitate. I know she still thinks I should take Nate, especially after what happened in the gym, which she declared was a ‘sign’ that the universe was trying to keep us together, that the legend was working its magic.
I agree. It was a sign. A sign exercise and I don’t mix.
‘No one,’ I say defiantly. Briefly my mind flicks to Adam. I would have liked to have asked him, but after seeing him with the brunette . . . I force my mind to flick back again. ‘I’m going to put it on eBay, auction it off for charity,’ I say decisively.
Immediately her face lights up. ‘Oh, Lucy, what an awesome idea.’ She grins, all thoughts of Nate suddenly forgotten. ‘I know just the one. It’s an orang-utan sanctuary that I worked at when I was in Borneo.’
‘Perfect.’ I smile, stifling a hippo-sized yawn. It’s been a long day, and not exactly one of my best. To tell the truth, I just want to go to bed and forget all about it. ‘Well, I think I’ll call it a day.’ I haul myself off the sofa.
‘OK, night.’ Throwing me a little wave, she turns back to her vision board. ‘How many “t”s in “serendipity”? One or two?’
I pause in the doorway. ‘Um, one, I think.’
‘Cool, thanks,’ she mutters, and grabs her Pritt Stick and scissors. I leave her chopping up pages with a vengeance.
Fifteen minutes later I’m lying in bed with my laptop. Forget men, I want to marry my MacBook. It’s dependable, reliable and you can even go shopping with it, I think, clicking on to eBay.
I go to the section marked, ‘Sell,’ and type in the description: ‘One ticket for Broadway play to see performance of Tomorrow’s Lives.’ I add a few details, then post the listing. Hopefully someone will bid on it, I muse, searching for things to bid on myself. I’d really like a new bag . . . I start looking through the vintage section. Usually I can spend hours like this, but tonight my heart’s not in it. Instead my mind keeps sliding back to the gallery and Adam. I feel a beat of sadness. I didn’t even say goodbye.
Regret gnaws. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably with the pretty brunette, I remind myself. In fact, they’re probably somewhere right now, having fun, while I’m here in bed with my laptop husband. I stare distractedly at the ceiling and listen to the droning hum of the fan on my windowsill.
Before I can sink even further into gloom, I’m distracted by the ping of an email plopping into my inbox. I look at it absently. It’s from Facebook.
Adam Shea sent you a message on Facebook.
It’s like someone suddenly plugged me into the mains. Adam! The Adam. Adam-who’s-suddenly-switched-my-light-back-on-in-my-cab Adam?
Unknown
Suddenly galvanised, I click on it and it takes me to...
As are all those people who have over hundreds and hundreds of friends. I mean, they’re not real friends, they’re just people they met randomly in a club one night, or in a queue at Tesco . . .
I look at Adam’s profile. He has fifty-seven friends – not too few, not too many, just perfect, I think happily, feeling like Goldilocks.
Now it’s my turn. Interested in seeing a really good film? You disappeared before I could ask you. Say yes and all you have to do is bring the popcorn.
´€€†Ëin I stare at the message, feeling a mixture of delight and excitement. That will teach me to jump to conclusions about pretty brunettes. Quickly I type, ‘Yes,’ then smiling happily to myself, I snuggle down into my pillows and am about to log off when suddenly I notice a status update:
Nathaniel Kennedy is feeling on top of the world.
My ankle twinges in annoyance. Argh, is there no getting away from him? Quick! I need to defriend him.
I click on ‘Remove from friends’ and he’s gone.
Chapter Twenty
Except it’s not that easy.
Unfortunately real life isn’t like cyberspace – I can’t just press delete and erase him – and over the next few days Nate keeps popping up everywhere. Not a literal boom!