Page 46 of Host for the Holidays
As I set the phone down, my eyes catch the list of text messaging threads. Right under the texts with Dan is Brianne’s name and the last text she sent.
Brianne (11:47 p.m. last night):You’ve been a great mentor *wink face*
Weirdly, my heart doesn’t react. Maybe that’s because it can’t fall any farther. I don’t even know what to do with that text. Especially combined with that emoji. And that time stamp. I think back to last night. I’m almost positive I was asleep at that point. I thought Josh was too.
It just seems late for texts between coworkers.
It’s entirely possible I’m reading into it too much. Maybe Brianne is just genuinely thanking him for mentoring her. But I’m tempted to tap on the thread to see whether Josh was texting her before that—while I slept with my head on his shoulder.
I shut my eyes and set the phone down, feeling a bit sick.
I hate this feeling so much. Even more, though, I hate how familiar it has become.
Josh comes up to the table, sighing as he sits down and picks up his phone. “With 4.7 stars, you’d think this place would be able to dress a salad.”
I watch to see if he realizes I was using his phone—and if he’ll see the new texts from Dan. His jaw tightens, and he grimaces. He turns off his phone and sets it aside, picking up his utensils and looking up at me. His eyes grow more intent as they take in my expression. “Is something wrong?”
I don’t even know what to say. Right now,everythingfeels wrong. I’m weirdly numb, though, as I meet his eye. Mostly, I just feel tired and disappointed. I don’t think Josh had even texted Dan yet last night when he told me he had a meeting set up for us.
Josh sets down his hands on the table. “You’re mad Dan isn’t here yet. Look, Mads. I’m really sorry, but he texted me saying he can’t make it. He got caught up with work today.”
“I know.” It’s all I can say because right now, life feels surreal. “I saw the texts.” I’m also seeing all sorts of moments from the last two years flash across my mind. The subtle shifts that took us from those happy first months to the last year and more where I’ve been waiting for things at work to die down for Josh so we can get back to normal.
But it finally hits me:thisis normal. This rollercoaster. And I am not a rollercoaster person. At all.
Josh’s eyebrows draw together, and his gaze moves to his phone on the table again. “You read my texts?”
I nod. Usually, when Josh starts to get frustrated like this, I pull back and do damage control, trying to put out the fire like I’m the one who started it.
Not today, though. Today, I’m finally seeing through the smoke.
I take in a full breath, filling my lungs. “Listen, Josh . . .” I bite the inside of my lip. “I hoped we could make this work. I really did.” I hold his gaze. “But I don’t think we can anymore.”
He blinks. “You’re breaking up with me because Dan can’t make it to lunch? Sheesh, Madi. I didn’t realize our relationship was contingent on my getting you a job.”
I stare at him for a second, and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. Josh is a decent guy, but he’s got his priorities mixed up. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not one of those priorities.
I shake my head. “It’s not about the job, Josh.”
“Is it about Brianne?”
My brows go up. “Should it be?”
“No,” he says decisively. “I can’t help that she’s into me or that I got assigned to mentor her. It’s part of my job, Madi.”
I can’t even unpack that right now. And I don’t think I want to. “It’s not about Brianne either. For a long time now, I feel like you’ve been doing the bare minimum to keep me around, Josh. Like a client you’re trying to keep happy enough to stay on board.” I shrug. “For some reason, I thought Paris might change that. Maybe because it wasn’t always this way.”
Josh looks at me, and I can see he’s thinking through what I’m saying. “No. It wasn’t, was it?” He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re right. I haven’t been handling things right.” He scoots forward on his chair, his eyes imploring. “It can be like it used to be, Mads. Itcan. My trainings end in a few days, and we can see everything together—do whatever you want. I’ll turn off my phone.” He picks it up and holds the power button until it shuts off.
I try to picture the image he’s painting, to imagine our relationship like it was in the beginning, when Josh was actively investing in us.
“And I can take your portfolio to Dan,” he says. “Catch him before he flies out.”
I shut my eyes. He’s doing it again. Trying to fix things by making big promises. But I’ve believed him one too many times, had my hopes dashed one too many times.
How did I do this for the last two years? I’m exhausted on my own behalf, thinking of all the times I’ve pasted a smile on and said, “Sure!” in situations like this one. But even more than that, I’m so incredibly disappointed. I’m not sure how much of that disappointment is in Josh and how much is in myself for believing anything would change just because we’re in Paris.
The ugly truth of the matter is I’m not a priority for Josh, and I haven’t been for a long time. I’ve spent more of my time in Paris talking to Siena than I have to him, and that’s even with a nine-hour time difference.
