April made a sound in the back of her throat. “Sometimes. Listen to yourself. You’re a powerful woman, Mace. Look, it says so right here.” She jabbed at a place on the screen. “Come on, don’t get all maudlin on me now, or I’m taking my Three-Buck Chuck back. Jeremy was an addict, and like with any addict, you were number two. Is that what you want?”
It was true. At times, it was true.
“Remember that time you told me he spent the entire evening on his phone while you were trapped in a conversation with Weird Mildred at Rob and Frank’s?”
“Ugh.” Macy shuddered. She’d tried and tried to catch his eye, but not once did he look up to see where she was; and when she finally had escaped Weird Mildred, she’d gotten caught by the woman who ran the co-op, who went on and on about organic carrots. Something about how they shouldn’t be grown on farms, but in people’s backyards because that soil doesn’t usually have a history of pesticides— Could that be true?
“And he waited in the car with his phone one time, didn’t he? Instead of going in to your cousin’s baby shower?”
She tapped her fingers on her desk. “I had to go get him. To be fair, it was a baby shower. Most of the guys there looked miserable.”
“Sure, but if you say you’ll go, you go. You don’t sit in the freaking car.”
Macy turned to her. “I thought you liked Jeremy.”
“I did!” She lifted a shoulder, let it drop, continued to scroll down the profile page. “But, I don’t know, it just seemed like . . .”
Macy waited, but April didn’t finish.
“Seemed like what?” she pushed.
April exhaled and took her hand off the mouse. She turned the swivel chair toward her. “Don’t get mad.”
A bad feeling erupted in Macy’s stomach. “I never get mad at you.”
“Well, okay, don’t get upset, then.”
“Just spit it out,” Macy said, feeling ill. “Was he cheating on me? Did he make a pass at you? Oh my god, it’s not one of those things like Suzanne’s boyfriend where you all took an oath not to tell—”
“Oh for god’s sake, no! To be honest, I started thinking it wasn’t right when you told me about that time he answered a text in the middle of having sex with you.”
Macy’s cheeks flamed. “That was a work thing. It was really important. And we weren’t supposed to be having sex, actually. We were at the tennis club, in one of those unisex bathrooms near the pro shop.”
April laughed and rustled Macy’s hair. “That’s right! I was so proud of you, thinking outside the box like that. A public restroom! That was a first for you, wasn’t it?”
But he had taken the text, she was thinking now. He must have had one eye on the phone the whole time . . .
“Seriously,” April said, “and I’ll only say this once, in case you end up back together with him.”
Macy’s eyes shifted to hers, knowing it was hopeless. He’d texted during sex. You didn’t come back from that. Granted, that had been months ago, but in light of all the evidence since then, it was significant now.
“What?” Macy was uncomfortable under April’s scrutinizing gaze.
“He just wasn’t that into you,” she said finally, looking at her sorrowfully. “I hate to say it, but if you have to fight for a guy’s attention, that’s the bottom line.”
“You don’t . . . ?” April’s words were injury enough, but she steeled herself and forced the question. “You don’t think he was in love with me?”
April’s expression got sadder, and it was so unfamiliar a look that it, more than anything else, convinced Macy she must be right. Then April shrugged and her face retrieved some wryness. “Eh, love. Maybe it was his version of love. I’m not calling him a liar. But I know you, and it wasn’t your version.”
Macy slumped and put her hands over her face. “I know,” she said in a small voice. Emotion threatened to swallow her, but she pushed it back. It was the wine making her weak. She’d broken up with the guy because she’d known that what April said was true.
After a moment she straightened her spine, pushed her hair back off her face, and said, far more confidently than she felt, “All right, let’s do it. Let’s finish this stupid thing and post it. I’m moving on.”
April’s expression was instantly delighted. “Yesss!” She lifted a fist in the air, then lowered it to Macy. “Fist bump, sister. You are on your way!”
“On my way to what?” Macy fist-bumped April’s ring with a wince.
“To happiness, my friend.” April turned back to the computer. “Now, choose a picture . . .”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jeremy looked back up at the ceiling. Stuff was going on here, emails being written, that iLove profile page being worked on. As hard as it was to believe—though really, no harder than all the rest of it—he was starting to think the seventh floor was somebody else’s cell phone. Each cube was an app, some of the apps were being used, and he could do nothing but watch.
But it wasn’t his phone. Certainly he hadn’t filled out a profile looking for a man. Nor had he written an email to anybody named Bud.
Was being here a message that he should be paying attention to that heart-throbbing app? He watched as the typist finished the essay with some blahblah about having a sense of humor and a sensitive side and whatever.
He stood up and left the cubicle, the forces that had sucked him in apparently having had enough of him. He looked up at the ceiling again, saw the face of the giant phone, and decided to check out the photos. If this place made any sense at all—and that was in some doubt—he’d be in this person’s cell phone for a reason. Pictures might be the quickest way to figure out whose it was.
He went straight down the aisle from iLove to Photos, where he was once again immediately zapped inside. On the large screen in front of him was Macy’s gorgeous face.
His breath left him in a whoosh. He should have suspected, but he’d felt so hopeless it hadn’t even occurred to him—he was in Macy’s phone. That email was to one of her PR clients. She was filling out a dating profile.
His heart twisted.
Most of the recent photos were of the two of them, or just him, and he had a moment of feeling glad she hadn’t deleted them. Then again, it hadn’t been very long. As he scrolled through the photos, he began to notice how many of the ones of him showed him bent over his cell phone—at restaurant tables, on city streets, in her living room, his kitchen, in bed . . .
He scanned the folders, opening a video. Immediately he heard her laughter, then the shaking screen revealed her face. God, she was beautiful—her eyes wet with laughter and sparkling as they looked at him holding the camera.
He remembered the day. They’d gone hiking, her hair was windblown, her cheeks pink, and they’d gotten to laughing over something. Her laugh was so infectious, her face so brilliant with joy, that he’d wanted to capture it. Of course he hadn’t told her that, or she’d have gotten embarrassed and cynical. She never believed compliments.
They’d hiked one of the steeper trails that day, tramping through old fallen leaves, though the colors hadn’t quite changed yet. Macy had said she loved fall the best because its breezes were summer heat wrapped in cold, as opposed to spring, which was winter cold veneered with warmth.