“Maybe he’s old-fashioned.” She huffed out a breath. “Maybe he does that whole stupid three-day rule thing. Do guys still do that?”
“Oh God, I hope not.”
I groaned, remembering when guys waited three days before they did anything. They waited three days before they called you the first time, then another three days before they asked you out, then another three days after that first date. It was like some unwritten rule in the guy-code handbook that they all followed. It was the worst, and we tolerated it. Expected it, even.
“I can’t see Frank following any kind of rules,” I said. “He strikes me as the kind of man who does what he wants, whenever he wants.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
So then, what did it mean that he hadn’t reached out to me yet? Even with my mind giving me the logical answer, my heart refused to accept it.
I still held out hope, even if I acted like I had given up.
• • •
I went through the majority of my day thankful for the distraction of work, but still disappointed. Anytime I had a free moment, my mind drifted to Frank, and I found myself wondering what he was doing and thinking. The sound of my cell phone pinging out a text notification grabbed my attention.
A phone number I didn’t recognize appeared on the screen, and my heart thumped hard. When I clicked on the message, it read:
Unknown Number: I hope you’re having a good day at work. Sorry it took me so long to reach out. Forgive me? It’s Frank, by the way.
My fingers flew, typing out a response before my brain could make them stop.
Should I force him to suffer and wait like I had all weekend? No. I hated games, and the last thing I wanted was to waste another second ignoring Frank when I could be talking to him, getting to know him.
After saving his number into my contacts, I pushed back from my desk and headed quickly to Britney’s office. When I waved my phone at her from the doorway, her eyes widened and her mouth formed an O of surprise. She pointed at the telephone receiver held to her ear and flashed me one finger, so I walked back into my office and waited.
“Oh my God,” Britney said as she ran into my office and shut the door a few moments later. “What did he say? I knew he would text you!”
“You did not,” I insisted, because this morning we were both pretty sure he had ditched me, even if we hadn’t said those exact words.
“Okay, fine. But I hoped. Now, read me the damn text.”
I read it to her, and she swooned.
“It’s not really swoon-worthy, Britney.”
“It kinda is. Forgive me?” She started fanning herself. “Did you text him back?”
I leaned back in my chair and swiveled it back and forth. “Not yet. What should I say?”
“Yes, you’ll marry him. You were thinking about two, maybe three kids, and you’ll be over as soon as you get off work.” She batted her eyelashes and I rolled my eyes.
“I was thinking more along the lines of this.” I typed a short text and held out my phone so she could read it before I sent it. “Is it too much?”
She pressed a button on my screen before I could change my mind or even read my response over again to make sure it was okay. “It’s perfect. And sent. You’re welcome.”
My jaw dropped as I grabbed the phone out of her grubby little hands. “You little . . . You can’t be trusted!”
My phone pinged and we both squealed. Literally. I thanked the gods my door was shut because I was acting like a complete idiot, rather than a grown-ass woman with her act together.
“What does it say?”
Instead of handing Britney my phone, since she couldn’t be trusted, I read Frank’s text out loud.
Frank: Would you want to stop by the bar after you get off work? Mondays are usually pretty slow, and I’d love to see you.
I read the text to myself twice more before I gathered the courage to look Britney in the eye, afraid of how much excitement might be reflected in mine. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high.