Page 18 of Spring Fling
A startlingly familiar name appears on the screen. Tonya.
I glance at the bathroom door. Is she messaging me from in there? If we weren’t on the third floor, I’d worry she climbed out the window.
Frowning, I open the app.
Hey Wade, sorry about last night! I wanted to let you know I actually got back together with my ex. Hope you understand. Good luck out there. You’ll find someone.
I stare at the screen, not comprehending for a long second.
Then the pieces start to slide into place.
The woman I spent the night with isn’t Tonya. But who is she?
A sharp, sick feeling lodges itself in my chest — the same feeling I got the day I found the texts from my ex-wife saying she’d took a job in Chicago and hoped I’d understand.
The casual cruelty of it.
The blindsiding shock.
I remember standing in our old kitchen, coffee going cold in my hand, reading the words over and over again:
"It’s better this way. Neither of us really knew each other.”
And now here I am, years later, with a woman who isn’t who she said she was.
The bile rises fast and hard.
A soft knock rattles the hotel room door.
“Oh, what now.” I freeze, heart thudding.
Tonya—or, rather, my nameless date—is still in the bathroom.
There’s another knock, sharper this time. I drag on my jeans, and grab my shirt as I move to the door. I pull it open.
And come face-to-face with a man I’ve never seen before.
He’s about my height but wirier, with jittery energy rolling off of him in waves.
He glances past me into the room, then back at me.
He frowns. “Who the fuck are you?”
My jaw sets. “I could ask the same question.”
“I’m here to see Angela,” he says, like it should mean something.
I blink at him, disoriented. “Angela?”
“Yeah.” He shifts his weight. “My girlfriend.”
I grip the edge of the door harder. Everything inside me goes cold.
“Angela,” I say again. I can practically feel the blood draining from my face.
Behind me, the bathroom door creaks open. I don't have to turn around to know she's standing there.
“It’s me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Angela.”
