Chapter 13

When Joaquin got back to the hotel room he’d been staying in for his stint in Dallas, the first thing he did was boot up his laptop so he could start preparing for his conversation with Curlgurl. He couldn’t ethically commit to either woman until he’d settled his own heart. There was only one way he could do that—speed up the timetable for meeting Curlgurl face to face.

He logged in, shedding his jacket as he settled in for what he hoped wouldn’t be an unpleasant conversation.

Quinoa: Hello, darling. How are you?

The screen stayed blank. Joaquin checked his watch but it was ten o’clock, the same hour he and Curlgurl talked every night unless he had a commitment he couldn’t get out of. They’d always operated according to his schedule.

Curlgurl never seemed to mind, though. She was very patient with him, especially considering she had no idea why he sometimes couldn’t make their scheduled chats. And she never missed, something he’d always taken as a matter of course, but now he wondered if she routinely canceled things in favor of their chats.

For the first time, his mind wandered toward what a life with Curlgurl might look like. If everything worked out. He would meet Curlgurl in person, take her on a date, and everything would be magical. She’d go with him to awards shows and movie premieres.

Wouldn’t she? What if she didn’t like going out in public? What if she wouldn’t dream of wearing gowns Joaquin picked out for her? That would be a shame because he’d recently developed a fondness for dressing a woman in clothes he’d personally selected.

Even scarier of a thought—what if she didn’t want to move to Hollywood?

Eliza wouldn’t. He had no doubt in his mind that if he actually fell down at her feet and confessed his undying love for her, begged her to marry him and move to L.A., she’d laugh. The woman owned her own business, as she’d so succinctly told him. The comments about becoming an actress had been designed to bait him, which he’d swallowed whole without hesitation because…well, he didn’t know why exactly, other than he’d panicked all at once.

That’s why he’d done a thorough job of telling her exactly how much she would dislike Hollywood, strictly to talk her out of it in case she’d been even remotely serious about acting, and odds were good he’d sold her on it. Go me.

The lack of activity on Curlgurl’s side of the screen started to worry him. Had something happened to her? She could have been killed in a freak accident and he’d never know. There would be literally no way for him to find out, no trail to follow other than the one his investigator had been trying to unravel, but he’d kept hitting walls. Mostly because Joaquin wouldn’t let him break any laws in his investigation, so the man had been forced to piece together clues from their chats and Curlgurl’s online history.

Which had led nowhere. So Joaquin had fired him after all. And now he had no recourse if she just never showed up to chat again.

After an eternity, he finally saw the magic words that allowed his lungs to start working again.

Curlgurl is typing…

Curlgurl: I’m so so sorry lost total track of time.

Quinoa: It is okay. I am glad you are safe.

Joaquin stared at the screen where he’d automatically typed out the words. He was glad she wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but now that he knew she wasn’t, a little bit of ire had replaced his anxiety.

She just hadn’t logged in. Like she’d forgotten all about him and their chat time. What was that all about, and why couldn’t he just tell her he’d been worried and a little upset?

Because he just realized that he did adopt a persona when chatting with Curlgurl. He’d have sworn otherwise. That she was the one person he was completely real with. The one person who knew him at his core.

It was a lie.

Groaning, he dropped his head in his hands and tried to squeeze something out of his stupid, mixed-up brain. Something that made sense.

Curlgurl: tell me about your day.

Joaquin put his hands on the keyboard. And took them off. What was he supposed to say to that? Oh you know. The usual. Filmed a scene with an amazing woman who has redefined my entire existence, then took her on a date, kissed her and still made it back in time for our chat.

Quinoa: We need to set a date for meeting in person.

This time, it was Curlgurl’s turn to pause. The silence from his screen grew deafening, which didn’t help his mood.

Quinoa: Unless you don’t want to meet for some reason.

At least that gave her the out. And then he’d know. He’d brought this up once before and she’d been pretty cagey about it, so he’d backed off. They’d arrived at the watershed moment when they couldn’t continue on virtually. He couldn’t anyway.

Curlgurl: will you be offended if I tell you the idea of meeting in person scares me…

Curlgurl: ?

That made him smile. She was still the same woman he’d been getting to know—and falling in love with slowly—for months. A horrible typist, but totally real.

Quinoa: Not at all. It’s a major commitment for me too. There are things about me and my real life that may not be what you expect. You might take one look at me and never speak to me again.

Curlgurl: I can’t imagine anything about you in person would be bad enough for that.

Sure, because she was likely imagining that he meant he had a disfigurement or was freakishly short. Not that she’d instantly recognize him and realize she’d been chatting with a world-famous celebrity. Would she be furious that he’d never breathed so much as a word?

Or would she smile and say it was fine and she loved him anyway? Door number three, most likelyshe’d calculate his net worth in her head and start spending his money as fast as she could.

Curlgurl: I’m sure there are things about me that would be unexpected too.

Quinoa: Tell me one. Just as practice so we aren’t as surprised by each other in person.

Curlgurl: I’m taller than average.

He had to laugh at that even as he registered that this might actually be happening. She wasn’t saying no.

Quinoa: Will it bother you if I am shorter than you?

Curlgurl: only if you have bad hair.

Curlgurl: I have to look at enough of that on a regular basis at my job.

Considering she probably worked with an entire office full of computer nerds with bad skin and greasy hair, he could imagine so.

Quinoa: Do not be concerned. My hair is fine.

Quinoa: How is tomorrow?

Curlgurl: you mean for our meeting…

Curlgurl: ?

Whenever she hit enter too fast, and the question mark showed up on the next line, he always imagined she was eager to get out her thoughts. But this time, he didn’t think that was the reason.

Quinoa: Yes. I can come to wherever you are with no difficulty. I can be on a plane very quickly. Are you open to the idea?

Watershed moment. He really hadn’t gotten much in the way of confirmation that Curlgurl lived in Dallas, other than a gut feeling. His pulse, which hadn’t been all that steady in the first place, double-timed as the words Curlgurl is typing appeared on the screen.

Curlgurl: I’m not opposed to meeting exactly but I started this new job and I have little free time during the day.

Curlgurl: hate for you to be standing around waiting on me so maybe next week is better.

Which was a non-answer of the variety that, in retrospect, he should have expected from her. She’d never been eager to put a face to face into the mix of their relationship. It did not give him warm fuzzies about this entire conversation. She was avoiding the subject. Why?

Quinoa: I don’t mind waiting for you. I need to book a plane ticket. Where am I flying to?

That killed any momentum the conversation might have had. The blank space where she should be typing spoke volumes, but he forced himself to rein in his imagination. Hard to do when the woman he’d been slowly falling in love with online obviously didn’t want to meet him. What was that all about? It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it kind of hurt.

Quinoa: I’m sensing you’re not ready for this conversation. I wish I understood why.

Curlgurl: I live in Dallas.

Curlgurl: Texas.

At least she could still make him smile.

Quinoa: I didn’t know there was another one.

Curlgurl: I’m trying here.

Curlgurl: meeting you scares me because what if that ruins everything we have…

Curlgurl: ?

Yeah, that was a thing. He sat back in his chair, letting his own non-answer speak for him this time, even as his heart twisted. His investigator had at least gotten that part right, for all the good it had done. It would have been nice if the man had given him something definitive instead of a big fat nothing. Then Joaquin wouldn’t be in this mess. He’d never have met Eliza and his heart would never have had question one about his feelings for Curlgurl.

But that had happened.

He’d been pushing Curlgurl to meet because he wanted to know for sure if she was the one. So he could forget about Eliza and move on with Curlgurl, who he’d probably never be able to actually call by her real name once he learned it. And deep inside, a part of him hoped that he’d know the moment he saw Curlgurl that he’d been fooling himself about her, that it was impossible to meet someone online and actually develop real feelings.

Then he’d be in the clear to see what might happen with Eliza—minus the guilt.

And Curlgurl had laid that exact fear out on the table. Right this second, she was waiting for him to respond and tell her it was okay, that she didn’t need to be scared because meeting in person was only the next step toward happily ever after.

Joaquin massaged his temples as he contemplated the giant mess his virtual relationship had become.

Quinoa: It scares me too. But I think it would be better to know. Don’t you? What if we take one look at each other and it turns out like in the movies?

Curlgurl: that’s what I’m worried about. that it will be more gone girl than beauty and the beast.

Quinoa: Are you expecting me to be a beast?

Curlgurl: I’m prepared for you to not be classically handsome if that’s what your worried about. I meant the romance and falling in love part.

Quinoa: If I promise to sweep you off your feet, will you set a date?

Curlgurl: Sunday.

Joaquin blinked. As in two days from now? Something sliced through his gut, and all at once, he wasn’t so sure any of this had been a good plan, even though he’d been the one to first suggest tomorrow.

Now that it had gotten real, forty-eight hours wasn’t long enough to prepare for his entire world to tilt on its axis. Because one way or the other, he’d lose something.

But wasn’t that the point?

Quinoa: That’s perfect. Where should we meet?

Curlgurl: the airport, that way if it’s a disaster you can just leave.

That would be a brilliant plan if he hadn’t lied himself into a corner. Why hadn’t he just told her he was already in Dallas? Because he didn’t want to come across as a stalker. And in all honesty, that’s exactly what it would sound like. I had someone investigate you so I could figure out if you’re legit or not. That’s cool, right?

Quinoa: Maybe you’re the one who will appreciate having an exit strategy.

Curlgurl: ha. I wish that was funnier. I don’t have a great track record with men.

Quinoa: Don’t be shocked, but my own record with women is nothing to celebrate.

Curlgurl: guess that’s why we both gravitated to an online relationship.

Yes. They were a lot alike in many respects and that’s why meeting her in person would turn out fantastic. They were soul mates. He’d always believed that.

Eliza Moore was just a sprig of parsley in his salad, bright, fresh and one hundred percent garnish, not the main course.

He was not falling for her. It was nothing more than confusing a movie role for reality and he of all people should know better.

Tomorrow morning, he’d take care of his slight crush on his co-star once and for all. He owed Curlgurl that much at least, and then he could meet her with a clean conscience.