Page 9 of When We Fell Again
While all those questions mashed my head, I knew I had to be a grown-up about it.
Five years was a long time, and for all I knew, things between us could never be right. Or she could be in a relationship with someone else. I didn’t know how I felt about that possibility.
My phone vibrated with a message. I grabbed it from my bedside table and stared at the screen.
It was almost as if she’d been in my head.
Unknown number: Jordan? It’s Lex.
CHAPTER4
Alexis
I staredat the message I’d just sent, wine making me bold.
My finger hovered over it, wondering whether I should press delete, pretend I’d never even tried to make contact. But given I’d be seeing him on Monday, there seemed little point in pretending. I knew it was the right number, even though it was different from the one I’d previously had for him. Chris had provided me with all the band’s contact information as part of the tour pack. Theo told me their manager was breaking the news about the change of tour manager to them that afternoon.
I didn’t know what I expected.
A pissed-off missive telling me to mind my own business and get the hell off his tour?
A heartfelt reply saying how much he’d missed me?
Or nothing?
The third option niggled at me. If I didn’t hear anything from him, I wouldn’t know what he thought about seeing me for the first time in forever. And I wouldn’t know how to act around him.
Why did I care so much about what he thought?
Sinking back into the pillows on the couch, I drew my legs up and crossed them in front of me.
Five years had passed without us having any kind of contact.
Five years since the last argument over my career clashing with his.
And there we were, going around the same merry-go-round.
I glanced down at the screen, where at the top it saidJordan B typing…
Someone had sucked all the air out of the room as I held my breath, waiting to see what the response would be.
Then the words disappeared, leaving only his active time stamp. I tapped my fingers against my jean-clad leg, waiting to see if any message would appear. Twice more, it came up withJordan B typing…and twice more, nothing came of it.
A part of me wanted to message him again, to goad him into replying. My sensible head said nothing good would come of it.
No response was… no response.
For all I knew, Jordan Bowie was as apprehensive as I was about our paths crossing again.
Ha, who was I kidding? He was the one who was glad to see me walk away. He didn’t exactly fight for our relationship back then.
My chest tightened. The next two weeks had trouble written all over them with a capital T.
I flipped my phone screen down on the sofa next to me. Obsessing about a reply which was never coming wasn’t good for my mental health. Blowing out a hard breath, I switched on the television and tried to take my mind off things with some reality show with stunningly extravagant properties on the Southern California coastline.
When my phone pinged with a message, I almost spilled my wine.
Could this be the response I had been waiting for?
