Page 100 of Desserts for Stressed People

“I swear, Heaven. I’ll make it up to you. It’ll never happen again.”

“Alex, I don’t want to get back together.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Is it because of that guy?”

I set my elbow on the table and fidget with the corner of the cookie box. “I won’t lie and tell you there’s nothing between us. But he is not the reason I don’t want to get back together, no.”

He groans. “He is. Please tell me you won’t sleep with him. Oh, God. Tell me you haven’t already.”

“Are you listening to me?” I ask as my voice reaches a higher pitch. I have to give it to him, it takes someaudacityto say that after I caught him sleeping with another woman in our bed only a few days ago.

“Yes. I am. Tell me you’re not sleeping with him.”

I ignore the sense of liquid anger boiling through me and try to keep a firm tone instead. “Alex. We’re over. I have all your stuff packed. Send someone to get it, please, and let’s move on from this.”

“No, no. It’s not over. Nothing’s over, Heaven. I love you,” he whines, followed by a loud thump. “Please, let me fix this. I swear I can fix it.”

God, I shouldn’t have answered the phone. He probably thinks if he keeps insisting, I’ll cave. “Alex, I’m sorry—I am. But it’s too late.”

When he protests again, I hang up. I know he won’t let go, and I can’t take any more of his begging. Not today.Today, I need to sleep.

Before I can bite the next cookie, I get an email from the catering company. I email them back immediately, and once I’m done, I relax back in my chair and close my eyes. I’ll fall asleep like this if I stay here for a minute longer.

My phone lights up again, vibrating against the table, and I grab it with no hesitation. I don’t know if it’s Alex or work, but I’ll sleep with it under my pillow to make sure I don’t miss any important calls. It’s neither, unfortunately.

With a thump, my phone drops onto the table as I bring a hand over my mouth. It’s RadaR. Shane. Shane texted Nevaeh on RadaR.

My eyes burn, and with the first blink, the screen in front of me blurs. Silence reigns in my apartment except for the ticking of the wall clock and the much quicker thrumming of my heart. Then tears give way to sobs, which only increase every time a new one comes. Louder and ever more painful.

I can’t believe he’d do this. I can’t believe he’d look for Nevaeh. We’ve been dating for—hell, we haven’t started yet, and he’s already reaching out to other girls?

Is it me? Seriously—is there something fundamentally wrong about me that just makes men need more?

Squeezing my chest, I gasp for air again and again, but it feels like none of it’s coming in. It’s anger, probably, but I just feel exhausted. Drained. Spent.

I’m done.

I grab my phone and press on the RadaR icon. I’m deleting this stupid profile, this stupid app. I’m done with this, I’m done with everything. I tap on the notification, and the chat with Shane opens. Though I don’t want to read the message, I notice the green bubble covers my whole screen, and through the blur in my eyes, I read his words.

Shane:

Hi Nevaeh. We haven’t talked in a while, work’s been busy. I’m not sure what I’m doing or if there’s a point to this text, considering we’ve never met. But I also don’t want to ghost you without a word. I think it’s fair to say we shared a connection, though it didn’t lead to anything romantic. So I wanted to let you know I’m deleting this account. I met someone, and if this were any other situation, I’d love to continue being friends. But I guess it wouldn’t be easy to explain my friendship with a mysterious girl from a hook-up app. Sorry we never got to watch The Matrix together. To make it up to you, here’s my favorite line. Ever had that feeling where you’re not sure if you’re awake or dreaming? Shane

I gape at the message. Of course, I stopped sobbing. Now, I’m smiling and sad at the same time, which is possibly more idiotic.

His profile picture is gone, and if I click on his name, nothing comes up. The account disappeared. He’s not thinking about deleting the app. If there are other girls, he didn’t give them a chance to persuade him to stay. He just let them know he’s out. He’s mine. And he’s quotingThe Matrix, the movie he and Nevaeh never got to see together. Maybewewill, one day.

Pressing onto the little icon that brings up Nevaeh’s profile, I scroll down until my finger hovers on the button that reads “Delete.” I hesitate, trying to sear this moment into my memory. As silly as this whole thing was, I don’t think Shane and I would be here today if it wasn’t for the connection we shared thanks to Nevaeh. I wouldn’t have seen the dessert-sweet side of him I now adore. He would have remained nothing but Mr. Asshole to me.

With a final sigh, I tap on “Delete” and I’m logged out of the app. Nevaeh is out of my life. Gone.

Almost on cue, there’s a knock at my door, and I just know it isn’t Alex, Emma, or the neighbor who always asks for salt or sugar. It’s Shane. He left work and sent that message to Nevaeh on his way here, to me.

I run to the door and open it. I barely notice his tired eyes, the way his jaw is set and his shoulders are tense with stress, because I grab his face between my hands and kiss him, pulling him inside until he closes the door behind him.

“Hmm...hi,” he says when we catch our breath, but now I’m all good with oxygen, and I kiss him again. He’ll need to wait for the next break for me to greet him.

His hands move to the small of my back, and we stand in the middle of the corridor, tasting our lips like the combination of the two of us is our favorite dessert. I know it’s mine.

---