Little Miss Lovesick (21 page)

“Get out,” I whispered.

“Sydney…”

“Please. Just go.”

If I’d still loved him, I wouldn’t have been able to bear the hurt look on his face. But I didn’t care anymore. The not caring didn’t even bother me.

Maybe i
t
wa
s
time for a new plan.

CHAPTER 22

I YANKED some paper from my printer and found a pen. Throwing it down, I picked up a black Sharpie instead. I needed to make a statement. Scrubbing my face against the shoulder of my shirt, I ignored the black streak of mascara left behind and sat down at the dining room table. In big, block letters across the top, I wrote:

THE PLAN — STEP 1 —

Okay, what to do first? I sniffled. Staring at the paper, I tried to concentrate. Sniffling again, I got up and found a box of Puffs. I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. Picking up the Sharpie, I decided to just write everything down in no particular order.

Next to “Step 1” I wrote, “Tell Dirk no more flowers and chocolate, and stop coming over uninvited.”

I paused, then crossed out the word “uninvited.” Yeah, that’s good. Speaking of which — I got up again and grabbed the latest box of truffles from the kitchen counter. I popped one in my mouth and put the box on the table beside me.

Don’t thin
k
, said a Voice
,
just enjoy.

Step 2 — Tell Emily that if she’s mad at me, she should tell me, and if she’s found other friends to hang out with, she should tell me.

I re-read it. A little childish. Well, I’ll say it in a way that doesn’t make it sound “all about me” as she put it.

Step 3 — Tell GT I can’t help him find a house if he gives me conflicting/opposite needs.

The hard part was going to be explaining that to him in a way he understood. So far, no luck. A thought occurred to me. I wrote in parentheses, “Go look at the house he keeps mentioning and study it.”

The house he pointed out that first trip — the one that wasn’t for sale — seemed to have caught his attention in a way nothing else had. Maybe I could figure out what he liked so much about it and find something similar.

Oh! I added to step three, “Tell GT to keep his hands to himself.” It’s not like he’s trying to be fresh, but geez. He needs to understand boundaries.

Let’s see. What else. I tapped the marker against my chin. Oh!

Quickly I wrote, “Step 4 — Tell Perry to let me know if he wants me to drop a client, otherwise I’m doing the best I can.”

Lately, it felt like I wasn’t living up to anyone’s expectations. Least of all, mine.

Step 5 — Tell Trent…

What? Tell him what? That we might be the right match at the wrong time? That he deserves more — or in my cas
e
les
s
— than he can get from me? He’s so sweet and kind and really rather good-looking and…

I sighed. My life is a disaster. Trent deserves less drama. I crossed out the first two words and wrote, “Figure out what to do about Trent.”

I thought about Matt. He seeme
d
so ma
d
when he left last Sunday. And he didn’t act any better when I saw him yesterday. All I did was tell him I’m not the kind of girl to sleep around. Okay
,
mayb
e
that sounds like I think he thinks I am. But I tried to apologize and he blew me off!

I sighed, tapping the pen furiously against the table. No matter how I looked at it, it still came down to me apologizing. Not for what I said, but for fighting about it. I could’ve been far more calm and rational. Just not when he’s nearby.

That’s it! I’ll apologize on the phone or with an email or something. When he’s close, all I can think about is kissing his lips off. (Or, in yesterday’s case, kicking his butt.) If he’s not actually in front of me, I could think better.

Step 6 — Tell Matt I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, and that I’m not going to have sex wit
h
anyon
e
.

I hop
e
tha
t
doesn’t stay true foreve
r
, said Lovesick.

I wondered if he would accept my apology or just refuse to see me anymore. I started getting mad again and wrote one more line. “If that’s a problem, too bad.”

There. I felt better. I might not actually say it, but then, hey, maybe I should.

Let’s see. What else? I tapped my pen on my lips. (Yeah, I’m a pen tapper when I’m agitated.) That covers just about everyone in my life. At least everyone I’ve been having any, let’s say
,
issue
s
with.

Seems like there should be more to planning your life than just resolving personal conflicts. I wondered what Todd and Rosie had written in their plan. Couldn’t just call them up and ask. I’d sound stupid.

But you could call Mat
t
, said a Voice
.
Get the apology over with and see what happens.

Not ye
t
, warned Another
.
You need to think this through first.

I’m tired of fighting with hi
m
, sighed Little Miss Lovesick
.
I want him back.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed Matt’s number.

Don’t do it
!
screamed Sergeant Pride
.
Hang up!

“Hello?”

“Hi Matt.” I cleared my throat. “It’s Sydney.”

“Hi.”

Brr, is it cold in here? “Listen, I’ve been thinking about…about our conversation Sunday and I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”

Silence.

“The fact is, I’m not planning on having sex wit
h
anybod
y
. That’s all I was trying to say.”

“All right.”

All right? What does “all right” mean?

I looked at my notes.

“And, uh…”

Say it
!
said a Voice.

No, I can’t. He’ll take it wrong.

Just say it!

Don’t do it!

“And I just — what I’m saying is, if you have a problem with that…”

Is he trying to torture me by not speaking? A nice person would’ve broken in by now, said they understood, wouldn’t have made me finish.

So say it already!

“Well, it’s just too bad.”

I winced. There had to be another way to say that.

Too late no
w
, said a Voice.

Had my cell phone died? I pulled it away from my ear long enough to see that it was still on.

“Matt?”

“Anything else?” Ouch. Scary monotone voice. I don’t think he’s taking this well.

“Uh, no, that’s — I just wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding. That’s it.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling.”

“Uh, okay.”

The phone went dead. I had a funny feeling I wouldn’t be seeing him any more.

“Fine!” I said out loud to no one. “Who needs this bullshit anyway?”

I got up and paced my apartment. This sucked! I picked up two truffles from the table as I paced that direction. I ate one whole as I walked down to my bedroom. Biting into the second one, I paced back to the living room. I tossed my cell phone on the couch and stood there chewing, staring sightlessly out the window. Finishing the second truffle, I fell back onto the couch. Put my feet up on my coffee table. Leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

Now what?

I did what came naturally. I picked up the phone again and hit “1.” Emily picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” She sounded like she was in the middle of a funny conversation. Her voice sounded like she was laughing.

“Hey, I decided to go with Option C, as you suggested. I just called Matt and apologized. But I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh, Syd, that’s too bad. Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to call you back later, okay?”

Cry or get mad? Cry or get mad? I was really sick of both.

I looked at The Plan. She was on the list. Maybe this was the time.

“Listen, Emily, I don’t know what’s up, if you’ve got stuff going on that’s private or what.” As long as we’d been friends, we’d never had any secrets from each other, but I guess it could happen.

She laughed quietly and whispered something to someone, then came back on the phone to interrupt me. “Nothing’s going on. Come on. If it were, I’d tell you eventually anyway. Lighten up.”

Something was definitely going on.

“Well, if you’re mad at me or found some new friends to hang out with or something, just let me know and I’ll stop calling you, okay?”

“Syd, stop. That’s ridiculous. I’ve gotta get off the phone, but I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Whatever.”

The phone clicked.

Cry or get mad? That was so stupid.
I
a
m
childish. What is wrong with me? I swear I haven’t been this awful my whole life. Have I? No, I distinctly remember being a mature, well-adjusted human being not that long ago.

I lay down on the couch and hugged a pillow. I wasn’t sure if The Plan was going to work. The fact that I knew Emily was right, that
I
wa
s
being ridiculous, didn’t help. I felt absolutely miserable. Still. I thought working The Plan was supposed to make things better.

I sat up and stared at the dining room table. I got up, grabbed the marker and put a big, black check mark next to Step Two and Step Six.

Six. Sex. Well, that’s unfortunate. I should’ve made Matt Step Five. Now every time I look at the list—

You know what? No. Sex is Matt’s problem, not mine. Not that I wouldn’t like to have some, too. But a person’s got to get their priorities straight. And right now, I want lasting love more than I want love for the moment.

I sat tapping the marker against the paper.

Maybe love for the moment would be better than no love at all, though.

Hang tough
!
yelled Sergeant Pride
.
You can do this!

“I can do this,” I muttered aloud.

Grabbing the box of truffles, I went back and flopped on the couch. I hit the remote for the TV, opened the box, and began to trough-feed. If I was going to finish what I started, I’d need my strength.

CHAPTER 23

“OKAY, I’d like to see the houses in this order — the Maple Lane house, the Walnut Street house, and the Baker Street house.”

I pulled out of GT’s driveway and onto the main road. No sign of Matt when I came in today. Fine by me. Hadn’t seen or heard from him all weekend. And a peaceful weekend it was.

Lia
r
, whispered Lovesick.

“Why don’t we see the Baker Street house first?” I suggested, trying to ignore that particular Voice. “It’s closest. Otherwise, we’ll be driving around in circles.”

GT patted my knee. “That’s no problem. This order works fine for me.”

Now’s the tim
e
, urged a Voice.

“GT, I think we need to establish some boundaries. I’m sure you don’t mean anything by it, especially after meeting your wife, but I’d be more comfortable without—” Should I just come out with it, or beat around the bush? “You know, you patting my knee, kissing my hand, that sort of thing.”

I glanced over at GT who was looking at the printouts of the listings.

“Aren’t there two houses on Baker Street you were going to show me?”

I closed my eyes briefly, praying for the willpower t
o
no
t
drive him into the bay. No, then I’d lose my cool little Sportage. That would be a bummer.
I
lov
e
this car.

“Did you hear what I said?”

GT absently patted my shoulder. “You’re tense. That always happens when you have a lover’s spat. Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.”

“What?!” I’m pretty sure at that volume and pitch, it’s considered screaming.

He smiled with his pseudo-Southern charm. “Oh, Matt didn’t say anything. A gentleman wouldn’t, you know. But I could tell as soon as I saw you, both of you.”

He rubbed his hand up and down my arm in a way that I might interpret as comforting
—
if he were my father!

We were just coming up to a turnoff with a picnic area. I pulled in without slowing down. Gravel went flying and GT looked alarmed for the first time ever.

I stopped the car and put it in park. Turning to face him, I ground out my words through clenched teeth, afraid I would be more — direct? honest? — than I should be with a client.

“GT, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not mentioning this sooner, but your constant touching makes me uncomfortable. It’s unprofessional and I need you to stop it if we’re going to continue to work together.”

“Well, if it bothers you to be touched, I’ll try to—”

As if someho
w
I
was the one with the problem. My left hand gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “No, not try. It needs to stop. In a lot of companies, this would be a big problem.”

I was not going to say the words “sexual harassment” because I truly believed he wasn’t trying to harass me. “But it’
s
no
t
a problem. It’s a matter of respecting my personal boundaries. That’s all I’m asking.”

“All right then, darlin’. If it’s that important to you.”

His face hardened and his eyes lost their sparkle. He looked a little more Detroit Hard-Ass now and a little less Southern Gentleman. Still, it was now or never.

“The other thing is, we need to sit down together and decide what it is you need versus what you want in a house—”

“I’ve told you everything I need.” Detroit Hard-Ass tone. Definitely.

“And I’ve told you that what you’ve listed is impossible. You can’t have a low-maintenance house with a one-acre lot covered in grass and shade trees, with a fountain in the front and a pool and spa in the back. All of those items require quite a bit of maintenance. That’s just one of the things I’ve been trying to discuss with you over the last few weeks.”

“I would think with the commission and bonus I’m paying you, Miss Riley, that you’d be doing everything in your power to find me what I want.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “I only get paid, Mr. Turkelbain, if yo
u
actually buy a house
.
I have other clients who also count on me to help them buy or sell their homes. My boss is breathing down my neck because you ask for a huge amount of my time, but you don’t act interested in anything I show you. I’m trying to help you, but I need your cooperation.”

“So you want to quit? Leave me in the lurch? That happened three times before I hired you!” GT shook his head, his hands gesturing in front of him, agitated. “I am having the hardest time—”

“Nooo.” I took a deep breath. “GT, I’m not quitting. But we need to reorganize how we’re handling this.”

It was like a light bulb went on in his head. “Reorganization? Of course
,
kaize
n
! I implemented the 7-S framework with my New York company and it’s had amazing results! I think the Gestalt theory will work best in this case. Have you considered using the Balanced Scorecard approach to your business? I think you’d be—”

I had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. It was still English but…did he even hear what I said? When he was done spouting nonsense (at least it was nonsense to me), GT apologized and suggested I decide the route today since I knew the area best. Then he wanted to go back to his office and make a list of what conflicted with what on his other lists. We’d do better to work one day a week, he said, so he’d be focused on house-hunting when we were together. He promised to set aside Monday mornings if that would work for me.

I nodded and stuttered, “Th-that sounds fine.” I don’t know what I said to turn things around but, for the first time, The Plan seemed to be working!

I returned to my office in much better spirits. GT hadn’t liked any of today’s houses, but we both felt we’d made progress. Some of the buoyancy left my step, however, when I approached my desk. There sat another bouquet of flowers and another box of heaven — I mean, chocolates. I sighed and pulled my list out of my briefcase. Yesterday I crossed off Step Six, Matt, and Step Two, Emily. I took a pen and drew a line through Step Three, GT.

I looked at Step One, Dirk, then back at the flowers on my desk. This bouquet had a few roses, a couple irises, and some others I wasn’t sure about. Very colorful. Fragrant. Beautiful.

I opened the Godiva box. Truffles again. I’m sure I’d get sick of them eventually, but not yet. Thinking about this morning’s clothing change (stupid cotton, always shrinking), I wondered if Godiva, not Dirk, was my number one problem. I sucked in my stomach.

Be a Nike and Just Do I
t
, said a Voice.

I inhaled the scent of the world’s most delicious chocolate and picked up the phone. Dialing Dirk’s home number was easy — I knew he wouldn’t be there. His voice mail picked up.

“Hey! Dirk here! You know I’d love to talk to you, but I am unavailable at the moment. Leave your vitals after the beep and I’ll get back to you just as soon as I can
.
Ciao!”

I rolled my eyes. What an idiot. Mr. Don Juan-a-be. I heard the beep and said, “Dirk, this is Sydney. Listen, there’s a new plan. You may not have noticed, but I a
m
no
t
interested in getting back together with you
.
S
o
, no more flowers, no more chocolate—”

I can’t believe you just said tha
t
, said a Voice.

“—no more coming over to my office or my apartment. Nothing. Just erase me from your memory banks, okay? Thanks. Bye.”

Hmm, a little harsh, maybe, but necessary.

I leaned back in my chair and smiled. I am woman; hear me roar.

I picked up my pen and crossed Step One off The Plan. This wa
s
suc
h
a good idea.