by Frankie Love
“I guess being engaged has made you a romantic?” I tease.
“Maybe, or maybe I just want everybody to be really happy. I’m so happy right now, and Trudy is so happy, and I guess that’s why I’m calling. I want you to be happy too. I know I gave you a hard time at the party for coming late, which I know — you weren’t even late. I was just stressed and took it out on you.”
I brush off her apology, but appreciate the sentiment. “Thanks, Sophia. No hard feelings.”
I feel like my sister is squeezing my shoulders as she pulls me into a hug. “Then, maybe you should stop looking for guys in the same places you always do, Ava. Maybe you should start thinking outside the box, like Trudy. Maybe then you’ll find someone you can be happy with.”
I swallow, trying to not get emotional over my sister’s comments. It’s sweet, I mean really sweet.
Also, really depressing.
Maybe I’ve been doing everything completely wrong. Forever.
I look at my computer, see the email from HeartofGold.
What are your deepest desires?
Maybe finding love is all about taking risks.
I end the call with Sophia and click on new message.
I can take a risk.
Right this second.
Chapter Nine
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
My deepest desire?
To love and be loved.
By someone besides my pizza delivery man.
Oh, and the barista I always tip very well even though he never makes my salted caramel mocha correctly.
You?
AG.
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
There seem to be a lot of men in your life.
Should I be intimidated?
HOG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
Avoiding my question?
And yes. I didn’t even mention the FedEx dude. I have a thing for online shopping. And you? Do you have a favorite online store?
Tell me about the women in your life...
AG
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
1) my housekeeper Esme
2) my assistant Linda
3) you?
HOG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
Seems a little premature to say I am in your life. But we are confirming you are a man then, correct?
Also, you aren’t playing fair. Deepest desire?
AG
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
You are in my life considering I dream about you every day. Every night.
And yes, I am a man.
And I know quite well that you are a woman.
Deepest desire?
To stop being so damn scared of love. Of losing love.
Your turn. Ask me anything.
And no, I don’t have a favorite online store.
HOG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
Sometimes I wonder if you are my pizza delivery guy. Or, like, my neighbor.
I want to know who you are. I’m scared I am making you to be someone you aren’t.
But what if you are exactly who I imagine you are?
That’s not my question though.
My question is this:
Favorite childhood memory and why?
AG
P.S. I’m not scared of losing love... I’m scared of never finding it.
P.S.S. My favorite online store is Amazon. They sell everything. I got a package today with deodorant AND granola bars. Magic, I tell you.
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
When I was eleven years old my dad took my brother and I on a fishing trip in the far North of Alaska. At night, the sky held a thousand stars. My dad knew all the constellations and he never got tired of telling me their names, pointing them out to me. Cassiopeia. Ursa Major. Orion’s Belt.
The world felt infinite and I felt so small and when I told my dad that, he smiled and told me no matter how big I grew, I’d always feel small when I looked at the sky. And that feeling small wasn’t the worst thing in the world to feel. That feeling small meant you were big enough to see that the world didn’t revolve around you.
He was a good man.
HOG
P.S. I ordered a few things from Amazon today. A toothbrush and leaf blower. I tried to find the two most random things I could imagine. Did I do okay?
P.S.S. Favorite movie and why?
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
In college, I memorized the constellations. The professor taught us how to navigate the night sky and every time I found one, my stomach flip-flopped, wondering why I even had the right to understand the sky. Who was I to read the stars?
Your dad’s words were wise.
Favorite movie? Easy.
Titanic. I saw it in the theater twelve times and sobbed. Every. Single. Time. Then I’d come home, my cheeks streaked with tears, and my sister would look at me as if I were insane.
She’d say, “It’s like you think the ending is going to change. But Kate is always going to let go. Leonardo's always going to die.”
She didn’t understand—and still, doesn’t–that it wasn’t about the ending. It was about the journey. The end only hurt because the story was so beautiful.
If Kate and Leo never fell in love, would anyone have cried?
I mean, sure, a ship’s sinking is sad, but so is all of history. A battle lost, a country besieged. But I don’t collapse in tears over history books recounting the Revolutionary War.
Yet when the iceberg hits—I am lost at sea, my face covered in a flurry of tears. I fight to catch my breath but I can’t breathe.
It’s the love story, the fight, the dream. The longing for more than what you have.
That’s what gets me.
Maybe it all goes back to my deepest desire. To love and be loved.
Also, though, I’d like to be seen.
Speaking of... who are you, Heart of Gold? I’m becoming a bit besotted.
AG
Chapter Ten
I’m becoming a bit besotted? Who do I think I am? Jane freaking Austin?
I blink, determined to be present. To stop dreaming of an email exchange with a stranger. A literal stranger.
It’s bananas. But also, intoxicating.
The emails have been coming every few days for a month and I’m giddy every morning with the prospect of checking my inbox.
And last night, when I told him I was besotted it was not an exaggeration. I’m falling for an email address. What does that say about me?
Right now, I don’t care. I spend the better part of the night touching myself, thinking of him for the thousandth time. Of HOG’s hands on my ass, whispering gentle words and soft strokes as he fills me up with his cock—because of course, this internet-man has a big cock. The biggest cock, and it is a cock that fills me.
Much like Samson’s had. It fills me like Samson filled me, and fucks me like Samson fucked me. My pussy whimpers in release and then I ask for more.
It’s hot. All of it. I can’t get enough of it. I want more. Everything.
Him.
HOG.
When I fake-fuck him he looks like Samson, the man who had me and left me. Samson was unavailable and detached, but HOG... he is committed and all in and writes me nearly every day and I write him back, which is why now I am pressing my thumb to my clit, rubbing in small circles, harder and harder until I come with a flood all over my fingers. It’s still not enough.
I’m horny and hot.
The alarm on my phone wakes me
from my early morning fantasy. Dammit. All I want to do today is sit in bed and compose emails to my internet not-quite-lover, but I can’t. Sophia’s final gown fitting is today and as the maid of honor, I need to be there.
The bridal boutique is beautiful. The shopkeeper hands champagne to Sophia, her other two bridesmaids, and me while we wait for someone to bring out Sophia’s gown and our dresses. Mom’s here too, but she’s in another area of the shop, her dress is being measured as we speak, and she's paying for the purchases.
“So, what are you up to these days, Ava?” Cecily asks. Cecily is Sophia’s oldest childhood friend. Her question is ridiculous because I know that she knows I’m not dating anybody, mostly because she gets all her gossip from Sophia.
Cecily is wearing heels and slacks and, is she wearing pantyhose? Instead of answering her question I try and get a look closer at the exposed top of her foot, but then I realize I’m looking little creepy so I meet her eyes and smile with feigned interest.
“What’s new? With me? Not much, just enjoying my freedom.” I tell her, shrugging, wanting her to think that her life — being married with a toddler—isn’t something I envy. Maybe that is totally petty of me, to not give her the satisfaction of knowing despite her pantyhose, her life looks damn good from where I’m sitting. “I’m busy with my business. I’m working on a lot of custom pieces right now. I like this work more than the line I designed for the Westwood Gallery in the fall.”
“Oh, so your shop is taking off, then? You’re able to do this hobby full-time?” This condescending line is from Sophia’s newer friend Janet. Janet and Sophia are tennis partners. And they’re hosting this amazing gala in the spring. A tennis gala. Because that is apparently a thing.
I’m trying to not roll my eyes at Janet, but obviously, I’m doing a poor job of it because Sophia rests her hand on my arm.
“Don’t take it so personally. Janet is just being a brat.”
There are a few things I really, really hate in this world. One of them is when people tell me to not take something so personally. Why the fuck would I not take a personal comment personally.
“Whatever.” Usually, shrugging is my defense mechanism but right now I don’t have the urge to shrug. Maybe I’m not feeling defensive. Maybe I’m feeling actually pretty badass. Looking at these women— all three of them, I know in my gut that they have no reason to judge me.
Just because they have gigantic diamond rings on their ring fingers, designer everything and husbands and fiancés and toddlers and McMansions in the suburbs of Denver and impressive tennis swings and destinations weddings doesn’t mean they are superior to me.
I have a thriving business. I have my own condo. I pay my own bills and bought a Mini-Cooper last year on my own, and I’m proud of who I am.
Just as I’m about to jump into another inner monologue about how awesome I am, Sophia gasps at the sight of her wedding gown. I don’t blame her. It takes my breath away too..
“Oh my God, Sophia, it’s so beautiful,” Cecily coos. It’s true, Sophia’s gown is exquisite. It’s strapless with a full skirt in white satin. It looks made for a winter wedding, in the snow in Whistler. The skirt is edged in fur, the train has a million sparkling crystals sewn on, creating a glittering snowscape on white. I was with her when she first picked it out, but since then, the trim has been added and the crystals tripled. It’s made for an ice queen.
“It’s more beautiful than I remembered.” Sophia covers her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. The attendant whisks her away to the dressing room to get her into her gown.
“I just love that they’re having a destination wedding,” Janet says.
“Oh, me too, it’s going to be so much fun. But first, we’ve got to finalize the bachelorette party. It’s coming up soon. And with the holidays it’s gonna be super busy. What do you think?”
Janet and Cecily launch into bachelorette party plans—a party bus, a dozen invitees, a male stripper. Classic, and also, it’s obvious they have a handle on the event.
They are right that it’s a busy time of the year. It’s just a few weeks until Christmas, a week after that is New Year’s, and then the bachelorette party will be a few weeks after that.
Next thing you know, it will be Valentine’s Day weekend and we’ll all be in Whistler.
I feel like the wedding is speeding up time, but also, the emails I’ve been exchanging with HeartofGold have been speeding up time, too.
It’s strange how someone I don’t really know, has found a way to get to the heart of things with me.
I’ve never dated someone who wanted to know my deepest feelings and my fears. I’ve never been with a man who wanted me to tell him more about myself. Who asks questions. And makes me laugh and bring tears to my eyes with his reflections.
And maybe that is an embarrassing tragedy. That I’ve never had a relationship built on mutual respect and understanding. I don’t know what that says about me, probably nothing good.
But that’s okay, I think. Because I don’t need a list of relationships that ended in happily ever after. I just need one.
My sister walks from the dressing room looking radiant and glowing. Everyone smiles, telling her it fits like a glove.
“Okay, you ladies have dresses to try on too,” the attendant tells us before ushering us out of the sitting room.
I change quickly, and when I fasten the eyehook on the side, I take it all in. Thankfully the dress is very flattering. Although modest, it’s the perfect dress for a Valentine’s Day wedding. A-line with cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, in red satin. I step out and raise my arms. “Ta-da!”
“It’s sooo cute,” Sophia says, drawing out her words.
Mom walks into the room in her mother-of-the-bride dress in soft gray. It looks very posh, but she isn’t thinking about herself right now. She covers her mouth, overwhelmed with emotion when she sees her daughter standing there in white.
“You look breathtaking, Sophia,” Mom says as she walks toward us, reaching for each of our hands and pulling us into a hug. It’s a sweet and tender moment, and it makes me excited to have one of these of my own in the future. One day.
“So,” Sophia starts, “have you made any headway on a date for the wedding?”
Mom’s eyes are on me. “Have you, darling?”
“No, I mean, let’s not make a big deal of this, okay? I don’t think I really need a date. The holidays are going to be so busy, and it’s not like someone is going to want to meet me and then be a date to a destination wedding a few weeks later. It’s just too much pressure. Can’t you just sit me with someone else who is flying solo at the wedding.”?
The attendant is back, telling my mom that she can go change out of her dress now, and then my sister and I are left alone again.
“There’s only one other person playing solo at the wedding,” Sophia tells me, smiling at her bridesmaids who are now standing at the mirror with us, examining how they look in their red dresses.
“And who’s that?”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “Samson, Taylor’s brother.” My stomach does a flip-flop at the mention of his name. I remember how this morning I touched myself, imagining his strong hands holding me, his body covering me — taking me.
“Great, sit me next to Sam. Honestly, I don’t care. I want to be focused on you that day.”
Sophia smirks. “No way... a little birdie told me you two had a thing...”
I blink.
“Seriously?” Cecily’s eyes are as big as saucers; Janet leans closer, eager for bits of gossip. God, the pair of them are like starved dogs desperate for a morsel of anything.
“Did you seriously sleep with Taylor’s brother?” Janet asks. “At the engagement party, he seemed like the sort of man any decent woman would avoid. If you know what I mean.” She stands with her hands on her hips and I can’t help it, I roll my eyes like I’m a twelve-year-old girl because are they serious with this?
“It’s none of my business,” Sophia la
ughs. “But Taylor mentioned it, and I was like, no way are they hooking up again at the wedding. You are sitting far, far away from him.”
I try to imagine Samson telling Taylor that the two of us had spent the night together. It’s impossible to imagine, it seems so unlike him. He came off as stoic and guarded, but it just gives me another reason to dismiss the ruggedly hot man from my mind.
Samson doesn’t matter. Especially if he’s a guy who kisses and tells.
Now, HeartofGold? He is a real man.
“You know what?” I sigh. “Fine, keep us far apart, but honestly, I am not even thinking about Sam. My mind is on other things.”
My sister purses her lips. “What aren’t you saying?”
This is the problem with sisters. They know you too well.
“I sort of met someone. But I don’t know where it’s going, so I’m trying to play it cool. I’m certainly not inviting this person to your wedding, but I want you to know that I’m totally over Samson.”
We all head back to the dressing rooms so we can change. Talking through the walls of the rooms my sisters asks, “So where did you meet this mystery man?”
I swallow, stepping out of the red satin and pulling on LuLaRoe leggings. They are patterned with peacocks and make me feel cute as hell.
“Um, online?”
“Really?” Sophia sighs. “You’ve done the online dating thing before and it never works. The guys you date never end up looking like their profile and you get annoyed and yet they still get laid. It’s not gonna end well.”
I slide on my Uggs, not wanting to say I have no clue what HOG looks like, where he lives, and how he knows me.
I just know how his words make me feel. Seen.
