17. Goldie
Chapter 17
Goldie
M ATTY’S MESSAGES ARE haunting me. It practically melted my phone all day yesterday, and even JJ noticed I was staring at my screen more than usual. Of course, his gossip antenna went up, but I kept him at bay.
I don’t know what to do, and I need to talk to someone. I can’t talk to Willa. Or Reid. Ox might actually be an option, but that feels weird, too.
Mom and Dad are out. Like, way out.
That leaves Agatha.
And isn’t that something?
I’m knocking on her door before I can think twice.
“Goldie!” She smiles wide as she opens the screen door to let me in. “To what do I owe the pleasure of an early-morning visit? Have you reconsidered my offer to set you up with someone? Because I just got word of a new man in town. He’s in his forties, but?—”
“I’m kind of involved with Matty Brodigan but he doesn’t know it’s me and we made out in a dark room at the masquerade ball and did some other things later and now I think I need to tell him it’s me but I’m scared and I need help.”
Agatha blinks.
I blow out a breath and smile like a maniac. “Help?”
The old woman doesn’t miss a beat, smiling brightly and stepping back to wave me in. “Well, it seems we have some work to do!”
In moments, she’s got me seated at her kitchen table with some coffee and a slice of lemon poppyseed bread.
“I think you should start at the beginning. Leave nothing”—she touches my arm— “and I mean nothing out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”
She laughs. “Dear, have you bothered to do the math on me? I was in my twenties in the sixties. You’ve heard of that decade, right? The one called the sexual revolution ?” She titters and brings her cup to her mouth for a sip. “You kids these days think you’re the first generation to have orgies. I swear.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. Orgies? Holy shit.
“Agatha!”
She shrugs primly. “See? You’re shocked.” She sets her cup down. “Get over yourself and tell me the story.”
So I do. After a moment. Because I need to, well, get over myself. I tell her everything: signing up for the app a year ago, hearing nothing, the initial outreach and decision on both our parts to keep the mystery going, my shock at realizing it was him at the ball, changing my voice, the make-out session, the orgasm session, and so on.
“What do I do?”
“You come clean. Tell him it’s you.”
I gape at her. “But?—”
She waves my protest away. “Goldie. What do you have to lose?”
“Everything!” I sputter. “I have everything to lose!”
She tilts her head and regards me. “Okay, but what do you have right now?”
Oh. “Nothing.” The word is soft as I speak.
Agatha keeps going. “Do you think it might be worth the risk?” She takes another sip of coffee and regards me. “Besides, can you really go the rest of your life looking at Matty and knowing it was the two of you this whole time? What happens when he finds someone else?”
A sense of irrational possession and jealousy spears through me. Fuck that. Fuck that .
“You’re right.”
She looks at my phone, then at me. “So?”
I pull the phone toward me and click on the app, then navigate to the messages. His last words stare back at me.
If we’re going to keep doing this, I think it’s time to start telling each other the truth.
Not that I’ve been untruthful exactly, but there are things about me that I’ve definitely withheld out of a desire to be safe. And I don’t want to be safe with you anymore.
The ball is in your court, Dawn.
I hope I hear back from you.
“Am I doing this?” I ask Agatha.
“Yes.” Her tone brooks no argument. Leave it to me to get the best advice from a seventy-something.
DAWN
I’m sorry I haven’t replied. I’ve been entirely freaked out, too. But I’m ready to tell you everything. To start, I already know who you are.
Who you really are.
I knew who you were the second I saw you at the Ball.
The dots on Matty’s side almost immediately start up. I squeal and drop the phone. Agatha looks over to read it, too.
JAMES
You know my name?
You’re Matty Brodigan.
How’d you know?
Biting my lip and looking at Agatha, I decide to be truthful.
Your boots were a dead giveaway. And your eyes.
Seconds pass.
A minute.
Agatha groans in frustration. “What’s with the little dots?”
“It means he’s typing a response.”
“Well, what’s the hold-up? Is the man typing one-handed?”
I laugh. “Welcome to the wonderful world of online dating, Agatha. It’s brutal.”
She sniffs. “If it weren’t Matty on the other end, I’d be figuring out another man to set you up with.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn her.
She points at the screen. “He answered!”
I feel like I should apologize, because if you know me, then it seems I should know you, right?
“Tell him,” Agatha says.
“No way,” I answer. “Not over the app.”
You know me, but there’s a good reason you didn’t recognize me.
So…what now?
Agatha shakes my arm. “You have to meet him.”
“I know. But this is…hard.”
She scoffs. “Of course it’s hard. Why do young people think love is going to be a breeze?” She points to my phone. “You set up a time to meet him right now, young lady, or so help me, I’ll call JJ right now with the scoop of his life.”
My eyes widen. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Hers narrow. “Try me, missy.”
I gasp. “Rude.”
“Start typing.”
I study her. “You know, you both inspire and terrify me.” But I do as she instructs.
Let’s meet. Hall’s Balls. Tonight at eight. I’ll be the girl at the bar in yellow.
There’s a beat where he doesn’t type at all.
I want to puke. “Oh, God. Was the yellow a giveaway?”
Agatha rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’s deciding what he’ll wear.” She points at the phone. “See? He’s typing.”
I’ll be the guy in the cowboy boots.
I’m not proud of the noise that comes out of me. Or the fantasies I immediately start having. Like how he sees it’s me and twirls me around, a big smile on his face, before laying another one of those hot-as-sin kisses on me. Like how he’s not at all worried about telling my sister and parents. Like he doesn’t care about the gossip that will inevitably spread about us.
Agatha looks at me, as satisfied as a cat in sunshine. “Told you.”