Page 127 of My Silver Lining

Rafe and I had continued texting, but we still hadn’t spoken on the phone. He claimed he wasn’t dating and sent me a selfie of him and Beefcake in Magnolia Falls last week.

He’d gone there for Cutler’s baseball game, and the photo actually made me miss him more. I ran my finger over the phone screen as if I could touch his face.

I was stunned to see how bad his hand looked. He’d held up the splint that Emerson had put it in. He told me he hadn’t broken any bones; he just sprained it pretty badly.

We’d been texting even more since he returned home to Rosewood River, and he seemed to be putting in long hours at work. We both were. But I looked forward to our texts every day, like a desperate schoolgirl with a crush.

It was the highlight of my day.

And today, MSL had just had the biggest win since the day we opened the doors all those years ago, and none of it felt like a celebration because I couldn’t talk to the person I wanted to share it with.

So, I sent him a text. I’d made the rule, and it was a dumb rule.

Hey, do you have time to talk?

I waited.

And waited some more.

I picked up the phone and dialed. My stomach fluttered with excitement about hearing his voice.

It didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail.

It was early in the States; maybe he was working.

Maybe he didn’t want to get on the phone. That wasn’t part of the deal.

I closed my eyes as I listened to his voice message. It comforted me in the strangest way. It beeped, asking the caller to leave a message.

“Hey, it’s me. Lulu. I know we don’t usually call, but I just had something that I wanted to tell you,” I said, and for whatever reason, a sob left my throat. Why did the Universe choose to turn on me at the worst times?

What the actual fuck?

I desperately tried to pull myself together and push the lump away. “I, um, I don’t know what that was. I’m fine. Really good. I have good news. It’s nothing bad. Oh my gosh, you probably think I’m calling to tell you I’m pregnant or something now.” I cried some more because this was quite possibly the worst voice message of all time. “Oh my gosh. No one is pregnant. I mean, someone probably is, but it’s not me. I was just calling to tell you that I had a great day?—”

The phone beeped, and I waited for an option to delete the message, but it just said that the message had been sent.

This just went from bad to worse.

I sighed and sent another text message.

Hey. I accidentally butt-dialed you, so just go ahead and delete that message, please.

Everything is good.

I’m fine. Everything is fine.

I let my head fall against the desk, my forehead resting against my notepad.

I pushed to my feet. It was still light outside, and I could go for a celebratory glass of wine and some dinner.

A few people from the office had invited me to join them, but that was over two hours ago, and I’d still been in meetings.

I waved goodbye to Marissa and Harvey, who were cleaning at the other end of the hallway.

And then I waved to Walt, the security guard who worked nights, as I walked outside, heading for the café beneath my apartment.

I sat at the table where I sat most nights and ordered a glass of chardonnay and a small charcuterie board. I set my phone on the table and willed it to ring.

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