The Text God: Text and You Shall Receive ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  “You’re a kind person, Byrne.”

  “Not always,” I tell her. “I’m not exactly proud of some of the things I’ve done in the name of representing my clients. It’s why I’m quitting. I’m being asked to do something I don’t think is right. Legal, yes, but not fair.” I glance down at her. “Does that make you think less of me?”

  She looks up at me with worry in her eyes which kind of shakes me. I don’t want her to think I’ve built a career on shady dealings. And somehow, in this moment, hers is the only opinion that matters. “How unfair are we talking? Like hurting people?” The concern in her voice is evident.

  “Taking advantage of someone who got bad legal advice, and allowing my client to pretty much drive him out of business on a technicality.”

  “Oh,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

  “When I say it out loud, I’m completely disgusted with myself.” Sighing, I add, “The reason I’m not at work is because I told my boss I wouldn’t do it—take advantage of that other guy—and he told me to take a week to decide if I want to have a job or not.”

  “That’s a tough call,” she says. “What happens to the other guy if you quit?”

  “He’ll still be ruined and I’m out of a job. Not that I want to stay there anymore.”

  Jen’s quiet for about half a block and I have a sinking feeling she’s just lost a lot of respect for me. Finally, she asks, “Can you fix it? I mean, is there a way you can help this man out?”

  “I could, but it would be super risky. If I got caught, I could be disbarred.” Damn, we’re almost at her building. “I feel sick about it. Waking up one day and realizing you’re a bad person is … well, it’s the worst feeling I can imagine.”

  When we get to her front steps, she turns to me. “Listen to me, Byrne, you are a good man.”

  I start to shake my head, but she stops me with her words. “I know, without a doubt, that you have a kind heart. I watched you today with all those people who needed your help. You gave each of them the time they needed, and you listened so carefully. They came feeling desperate and left with hope—which you gave them. A bad person doesn’t do something like that.”

  “It was one afternoon,” I tell her. “Maybe it was no more than a weird penance thing.”

  “It wasn’t and you know it. I could tell by looking at you that you were connected to the Universe, doing exactly what you were meant to do. It was so clear to everyone there. And as far as your job, I have a very good feeling that if you follow your very good heart, everything is going to turn out exactly the way it should.”

  Searching her face, I see a confidence in her expression that I need right now. I need to believe in myself and I need to believe that there’s something better ahead for me. If I were to be honest with myself, I’d admit I need her. Lowering my face to hers, I murmur, “Do you really think so?”

  She swallows hard and licks her lips. “I do. I think you have what I would call hero qualities. I think you could be this man’s hero.”

  “Like in that Enrique Iglesias song?” I ask.

  “Just like that,” Jen answers, inching closer to me with a half-grin.

  “I hope someday I will,” I say, glancing down at her lips again and moving even closer so our mouths are almost touching.

  She closes the gap between us, brushing her lips softly against mine. Lifting my hands to her cheeks, I touch her skin gently, as if she might break if I’m not careful. Then I kiss her again, feeling the warmth of her breath against mine. Nothing has ever felt more real, more perfect than this moment. Jen accepts my kiss and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and we lose ourselves in raw possibility for a few glorious moments. Then, as quickly as it began, she pulls back, looking slightly shocked. “We shouldn’t … you just got out of a …”

  I let my hands drop and nod. “Right. Yes. Terrible timing. I’m a total mess right now. Not in any position to start anything.”

  “Exactly,” she says, but she’s still giving me that look that tells me she wants more.

  I reach up and tuck that lock of hair behind her ear, then sigh, knowing she’s right. She deserves better than to get involved with a guy who’s where I’m at right now. “You are truly a remarkable person,” I tell her, shaking my head in awe. “I’ve spent an entire week being torn up inside about what to do, and I have one conversation with you, and suddenly everything’s so clear. And I already feel like a better man.”

  “I’m glad I could help. Helping people is good.”

  Something about her words sounds familiar, but I can’t put a finger on why. She smiles up at me, then says, “I should go inside.”

  “Right,” I answer, not moving. I should probably start walking. But I’m not.

  “And you should … not come inside,” she says.

  “Definitely not. You go in.” I make a weird clicking sound and point one thumb over my shoulder. “I’m … gonna head home.”

  Jen chuckles a little at me, then says, “Good night, Byrne.”

  “Good night. And thank you.”

  I watch her as she unlocks the front door to the building and goes inside. She waves and I do the same, then turn and walk back the way we came, knowing that for once, I’m about to do something for all the right reasons and hoping that she’ll be there when I’m finally the man a woman like her deserves.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jen

  Byrne kissed me. I kissed Byrne. Byrne and I kissed. There was kissing. My thoughts are on a loop trying to convince myself that what just happened really did happen, and I wasn’t having a particularly vivid break with reality. My lips are still tingling. The kiss was real.

  Part of me wants to knock on Zay’s door and tell him what just went down on our front stoop, but it’s late and who knows what’s going on in my friend’s apartment right now. I pass up the opportunity to gloat and head straight to my apartment.

  Walking into my place feels different tonight than it ever has before. While I recognize it as my home, I’m overcome by a sensation that it’s only my temporary home. My life is opening up in such a way that I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Newsflash—I’m not one hundred percent sure it’s not a train about to flatten me on the tracks, but I guess I still have a little hope.

  Negative Me: Wrong! Do not trust this, Jen. Do the opposite of what your terrible instincts tell you to do.

  Positive Me opens her mouth, then shuts it, not sure what to say.

  I wander over to Frank, hoping for some fishy wisdom. “Frank, remember that guy that was here the other night? The handsome one with the dark hair who bought my painting? We kissed this evening. And it was amazing—like toe-curling amazing. But we really shouldn’t have because the timing couldn’t be worse.”

  Frank swims away from me as if to tell me it was a dumb thing to do.

  “Yeah, I know, but I did tell him we shouldn’t kiss again, and he agreed. The truth is, though, I want to do that a lot more. We just need to wait until I’m sure he’s totally over his girlfriend. Which should be what, another month? A week? Tomorrow? I really hope it’s tomorrow.”

  Frank sinks down to the bottom of the bowl with his face to the wall.

  Sighing, I tell him, “You’re right. I have to put him out of my mind.

  Picking up my phone, I send a text to Seraphina for a second opinion. You know, in case Frank’s wrong.

  JFlan: I just kissed the man I sold my first painting to.

  LibraGrl: Nice! Was that part of the transaction or just a bonus?

  JFlan: Ha ha. I also work for his parents now. There’s so much to catch you up on.

  LibraGrl: Let’s hope he’s a Scorpio.

  JFlan: Why?

  LibraGrl: They’re super protective of what’s theirs. The scorpion’s stinger can kill its enemies dead in seconds. It’s always good to have a killer on your side.

  JFlan: It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s just get
ting out of an eight-year relationship and I refuse to be a rebound.

  LibraGrl: Rebounds aren’t a given. Sometimes the next person is the right one. Trust your gut, my friend.

  JFlan: My gut’s been getting me in a lot of hot water lately. I’m putting it on pause and going with my brain for a while.

  LibraGrl: Sometimes what you think is a mistake turns out to be a necessary step in your journey. Come by and I’ll do a star chart for you so we can figure out if this guy is THE one.

  JFlan: I know I’ve said this before, but you don’t come off as someone who graduated at the top of her class at Yale.

  LibraGrl: Meh, more people need to be open-minded about the truths of the Universe. Just because science says something doesn’t exist, that doesn’t mean squat. In the sixteenth century people thought bathing would kill you. Sixty years ago, string theory would have been considered complete hocus-pocus.

  JFlan: Both fair points.

  LibraGrl: But back to your career, now that you sold your first painting, you need to mark it sold on your website and start creating a buzz.

  JFlan: I haven’t even looked at my site in months. But you’re right, I need to let my seven followers know that my giant lily is off the market.

  LibraGrl: Months?! Seriously, Jen! You cannot neglect your art in such a heinous way. The World Wide Web is the secret to success in any field now. Just think, if every one of those seven followers bought a painting, and all of their friends saw it, you wouldn’t be able to keep up on the demand for your work.

  JFlan: Thanks for being optimistic, Ser. I need it. I’m off to check my website.

  LibraGrl: May the stars be with you.

  Grabbing my laptop, I head to my couch. It really has been months since I’ve looked at my website. I’ve managed to create six new paintings that I haven’t even posted. Vowing to get busy and step back into the life of an artist, I pull up my dashboard. I mean, I am now officially a selling artist. Woot!

  I’ve had twenty-seven whole unique visitors since the last time I was on. That’s actually pretty impressive. Wow, and look at that, someone even sent me a message. I open it up and read:

  Hello, Ms. Flanders-

  My name is Alexis Banks. I’m a partner at Phibbs, Payne, and Lynch. My boyfriend recently purchased one of your lilies and I’d like to schedule an appointment to see the rest of your collection. He has a birthday coming up and I wonder if you might have a companion piece to the one he already bought.

  Regards,

  Alexis

  Okay, being that I’ve only sold one painting, this has to be a message from Byrne’s ex. I look at the date and see that she sent it yesterday, which means that only twenty-four hours ago, she thought she and Byrne were still a couple. Why is it then that he said it’s been over for days?

  That’s when a thought so horrific hits me that I forget to inhale, which causes me to get a little dizzy. Did Byrne fake a breakup just so that he could get closer to me? He did kiss me tonight. Holy hell, is Byrne a cheating, lying sack of used snot rags?

  But he seemed so perfect. And I wanted so badly to hope that things were going to tie up with a neat little bow and we’d wind up together forever. I guess outside of Hollywood movies, that’s not how things work. I trusted Byrne, just like I trusted that tiny con artist. I also mistakenly believed that God was texting me. What a loser!

  There’s only one thing to do to find out for sure. I have to meet with Alexis. Hitting the reply box, I type:

  Hi, Alexis-

  I would be happy to show you some of my other lilies. I’m currently in-between studio spaces, so you’d need to come to my apartment. Let me know what day and time works for you and I’ll make sure I’m here.

  Best,

  Jennifer Flanders

  I close my laptop and sink my head into the back of my couch for a minute, letting disappointment consume me. Then I tell myself to get up because I’ve got work to do. I hurry to change into my painter clothes and pull out three new canvases that I just bought. I promised other lilies, but I only have one. If Byrne turns out to be a dog, I have no problem selling his girlfriend another one of my paintings. I should get something other than heartbreak out of the whole situation.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gabe

  “Okay, Gabe, you can do this,” I tell myself as I finish looping the knot on my tie. It’s Monday morning. Time to go back to the office and say goodbye to the past seven years of my life. There won’t be any farewell party, no half-hugs with handshakes, nothing. I’ll have about fifteen minutes from the time I tell them I’m not going to play ball until I will have to have my personal items packed up, hand in my key card, and be escorted out with my belongings in an Ox Box, like a perp in a walk.

  As much as I know I’m doing the right thing, this is going to suck limes. Due to the non-compete on my contract, I won’t be able to practice hospitality law in the area for three years—not an issue. But taking a stand against the partners isn’t enough to save Mr. Bulgari, and I’m about to do something that could get me disbarred. I just have to make sure I don’t get caught.

  I quickly jot a note for Edward:

  Call me at (212) 555-7872 if you ever need anything. Good luck to you, Edward. You’re going places. G

  Then I write a thank you card for Jane and slip ten one-hundred-dollar bills in it. I’m going to miss her, old-school scheduling practices and all. I hope she’ll end up working for someone who treats her well.

  Thirty minutes later, I find myself zipping up to the twenty-third floor of Bennett Tower for the last time. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it might just jump out of my ribcage. Even so, I do my best to look calm. Stepping off the elevator, I make my way through the bullpen toward my office. I’m met by several staff members inquiring about my surgery. I smile while giving vague answers, thanking each of them for their concern and assuring them I’m doing just great.

  Jane and Edward both stand when they see me, concern written all over their faces. I gesture for them to come into my office, then close the door. I glance at my desk and see a few gift boxes on it, causing my gut to tighten. More get-well gifts?

  “What’s going on?” Jane asks, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t have surgery, did you?”

  I shake my head. “How did you know?”

  She lowers her voice even though we’re alone. “Phillip’s assistant came by about twenty minutes ago and asked for the Bulgari file. There’s a rumor going around that you’re out. Is that true?”

  “I’m done doing the wrong thing,” I tell her.

  Edward grins while Jane’s jaw drops. I shake his hand, slipping the note into his palm and say, “You really made me think, Edward. Thank you.”

  Taking the envelope out of my pocket, I hand it to Jane. “I’m going to miss you. Open this at home, okay?”

  She nods and tears up as we give each other a quick hug. “Where will you go?”

  “Not sure yet,” I answer, feeling my palms start to sweat. “But wherever I end up, I’m not going to make a living by ruining anyone. My shark days are over.”

  Jane smiles at me, then pinches my cheek. “I always knew you were too good for this place.”

  I glance out the glass wall into the bullpen and notice that a few of the staffers have gathered around the water cooler and are curiously peeking in. “I don’t want to drag you two into this, so you better get out of here. The less you know, the better.”

  They both nod and Edward offers, “Good luck, Gabe. You’re officially my hero.”

  I give him a quick smile. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “But you will.”

  Jane walks over to the door, and just before she opens it, she says, “Give ’em hell, Gabe.”

  I give her a thumbs-up, then hurry to my computer. As soon as they’re gone, I open the Bulgari file and jot down Mr. Bulgari’s phone number and email address on a random page in my planner, which I the
n tuck into my inner pocket. Then I take a look at the tags on the gifts so I can return them to the givers. Turns out they’re not from my workmates. They all say, I love you, Alexis.

  I groan as guilt washes over me. Carefully opening the first box, I find two tickets to the Hampton’s Cup polo match in Southampton next week. I eye the other packages on my desk. There’s a bottle of Clos du Bois, which we always had on our anniversary; a tin of salted cashews (my favorite treat at Christmas); and a bonsai tree because I mentioned once that I’ve always wanted one. It’s a veritable trip down memory lane that I don’t want to take, especially right now. Guilt floods my veins as I sit and stare at her many gestures. The harsh thing is that I feel like she’s trying to buy my love, and if she were only honest with herself, she’d realize it isn’t me she loves, but rather the person she’s spent eight years pushing for me to become.

  Alexis and I were once totally and completely suited to each other. We might have even stayed together, had she been able to understand why I couldn’t continue on with my job the way she expected me to. Had she been supportive and understanding, things might have turned out differently.

  But she wasn’t supportive, and reminding me of the good times isn’t enough to get me back. It sure as hell isn’t enough to get me to stay here and screw over the little guy.

  My desk phone rings, breaking into my thoughts. When I pick it up, Jane says, “Phillip Murphy on line one.” She hurries to add, “Don’t take any crap Gabe, you’ve got this.”

  I inhale deeply before pressing the button that will connect me to the inevitable. But it isn’t Phillip on the line, it’s his assistant, Bethanne, who tells me that Mr. Murphy needs to see me right away. I hang up and stand tall, preparing myself for battle.

  The first time I set foot in Phillip’s office was when he interviewed me for an internship the summer after my second year of law school. I was awed, amazed, and totally intimidated to be in his lair. Phillip was everything that I had aspired to be—wealthy, respected, and feared. Those were the qualities I thought a lawyer was supposed to embody. I naively thought I could have all of those things while still standing for integrity and goodness.