Chapter Seven #2
“I know with me and my ex, there’s this undeniable chemistry. It’s like this electric energy between us I just can’t seem to shake. Maybe it’s his pheromones or something, or the way he smells. Ugghhh,” she groaned. “It just gets me every time.”
“Here’s the deal: That magnetic pull? It’s not fate or destiny.
It’s just your brain getting played. And pheromones?
Pheromones make us no better than animals in heat.
Do you really want to be a lioness chasing the same deadbeat tomcat?
No. You don’t. Trust me. Okay, let’s take our next caller,” I said, switching lines.
“You’re on Love Is a Four-Letter Word with Elliot West. What’s your name and where are you calling from? ”
“This is Adrienne from Forest Hills.”
“Give it to me straight, Adrienne. How do the men we’ve kicked to the curb keep sneaking back into our hearts and, let’s be honest, our beds?”
Just as I said the word bed, I glanced up and there was Leo, standing behind Ravi in the sound booth, clutching a take-out bag from my favorite sandwich shop down the street and giving me a small, shy wave.
Shit, what is he doing here?
Adrienne had already answered me, but in the blur of unexpectedly seeing Leo like a goddamned jack-in-the-box, I totally missed what she’d said.
“I . . . uh . . . sorry, Adrienne, can you repeat that? Bad connection on my end.”
“Sure, I was just saying that sometimes it’s not even about the guy, the ex.
Sometimes it’s timing, or careers, or just life pulling you in different directions.
You’re simply not on the same page. But then weeks, months, or even years later, things shift .
. . and suddenly, you realize maybe you were meant to come back together after all. ”
At that, Leo’s whole face brightened, obviously thinking of our relationship. But none of it was real. We hadn’t come back together of our own accord. This was something else entirely. Something forced, something unnatural. Something masquerading as fate but scripted by some kind of dark magic.
I cleared my throat and charged ahead. “No. Returning to an ex is like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube. Messy, pointless, and guaranteed to leave you frustrated and with no more in there than you started with. If you weren’t in the same place then, chances are you’re both still reading different maps.
Which makes this the perfect moment to remind our listening audience of Commandment Number Nine: Thou shalt not confuse being wanted with being valued.
And Commandment Number Ten: Thou shalt know thy worth—and add tax.
” I lifted my eyes to Leo and continued, “You know yourself better than anyone else. Don’t let a little nostalgia convince you anything has changed just because they suddenly show up with flowers and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your common sense. Okay, next caller.”
For the next forty-five minutes, I continued my sermon on exes, red flags, rebound traps, and the delusions we dress up as destiny, all the while Leo watched me from behind a wall of glass.
I was honestly surprised he didn’t hightail it out of there, but instead, he was still waiting for me when the show finally ended.
I pushed open the studio door and stepped into the sound booth. Ravi raised his hand for a high five. “You were on fire, El. Killer set.”
I slapped his palm. “Thanks.” Then I turned to Leo. “Hi. What, uh . . . what are you doing here?”
He handed me the takeout and said, “You rushed out of the apartment so fast this morning, you forgot your lunch. I thought I’d surprise you with a pastrami on rye from Katz’s Deli. Your favorite. Besides, it gave me the perfect excuse to swing by.”
I looked down at the bag, the foil-wrapped sandwich nestled in a handful of white paper napkins and packets of mustard.
Katz’s was all the way on the Lower East Side.
Completely on the other side of the universe from the studio as far as New York City geography went.
Not to mention the enormous peak lunchtime crowd he probably battled just to bring me something special. “Wow. Um. Thank you.”
He motioned toward the studio with his thumb. “That was . . . that was really something.”
I raised my shoulders. “That’s me. That’s what I do.
Remember when we met in Mykonos, I was on assignment, talking to people about casual vacation flings?
My brand is all about the pitfalls of love.
” I hoped the blunt truth might somehow jar him into realizing this current version of us was nothing like the one I remembered.
He pulled me into his chest with strong arms. He smelled great, like cedar and santal, and I suddenly understood completely what Linda had been saying about pheromones. “Exactly, it’s your brand. Who you are on the radio. But that’s not who you are. I know you, El.”
I backed out of his arms and deadpanned. Not joking in the least. “Yes. It most certainly is who I am.” But he barely registered the severity in my tone, the coldness in my reaction, as he pulled me back into a sweet bear hug I couldn’t wriggle out of.
Dammit, he smelled so good it made my knees a little weak.
“I should probably get back to work. Ravi likes to do a postshow rundown,” I said, squeezing out from under his arm.
He glanced down at his watch. “Oh yeah. Me too. I’ve got to get back to the office. But I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Valentine’s Day? Our date? Madame Tussauds? Seven thirty?”
Madame Tussauds? Ah yes. Because who wouldn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day surrounded by a bunch of dead-eyed wax figures of celebrities no one cares about?
Regardless of what he thought, this guy clearly didn’t know me at all.
It was more than evident that whatever decision I’d made back in Paris had been a huge mistake.
And the sooner I let him know, the better. I’d break it off at the museum. Shut it down. Go back to normal.
So I nodded. “Right. Yes, of course, see you tonight.”