Chapter 1
31st January 2019Dear Diary,
Everything I know about him is a lie. Why? Nothing about this mystery man, Mr A, has made sense to me from the start... if I’m honest. Yes, I’ve dubbed him Adonis. The man looks like the Greek god in the flesh. Plus, I decided he deserved a name since he has taken permanent residence in my dreams. The more I dream, the more vivid they become—almost as if they were visions. Sometimes it is difficult to tell what’s real and what’s not. But you and I know better, right? Maybe it’s because I know he’ll be there tonight. The third year in a row...
Frowning at her reflection, Bonnie never thought her self-esteem would stoop so low. Greeting another human being should be as easy as... well, “hello!” Right? So why was she being so wimpy about it? Then again, she couldn’t quite blame herself. Being a poster girl for Failed Romantic Relationships 101, she’d long since given up on love. Dead serious.
In her world—actual life—no guy found “awkward” attractive. She’d done the most logical thing her high school senior self could have done: she quit while she was ahead. That’s why she would never suck it in, whip her hair, and strut up to “Mr A” at the office’s annual New Year’s Eve party. Hey, someone had to be the old spinster with fifteen cats, right? She hated how pathetic she sounded. Like a silly sophomore instead of a grown, independent woman. Evidently, she was still working on “strong.”
Sighing out loud, Bonnie collected her order: the usual toe-curling, delicious strawberry latte with extra sugar. And no, considering her petite body almost bordering on slight, she wasn’t ashamed. She beamed a “thank you” to the barista before skipping out of Margo & Rob’s Cuppa. It was her regular stop, mainly because it was the closest café to her workplace, not to mention the mean strawberry lattes and cream puffs they made.
Leaving the coffee shop’s lively confines, Bonnie marched into the frigid air. She pulled her scarf up around her chin to block out the nippy breeze as she rushed on, cautious of the frozen concrete. It would suck if she fell and broke something only a few hours before the party.
Almost ten minutes later, she gladly reached her desk. Tucked away from prying eyes in the corner of the IT department floor, it was her sunny place. Her ginger hair brushed the top of the desk as she slid her leggy figure behind it. As quiet as a church mouse, she ducked behind the monitor, unpacked her lunch, and pulled her favourite book from her bag. At thirty-one, Bonnie was a computer system analyst for Intel Hub, a position she’d gained fresh from MIT at twenty-two with a first-class degree in hand.
Long story short: despite doubting herself, she got the job. Before she’d known it, she and her mother had packed their lives into a banged-up pickup truck and left for the Big Apple. Now, she was the proud owner of a hard-earned, homey apartment in Manhattan.
He is a lie because everything I know about him is from these silly little images I conjure in my mind, yet they don’t feel silly. It feels like I know him. Am I going insane? Unbeknownst to him, I always find myself inexplicably drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. He is the perfect man every woman wishes for. Tall, handsome, charming. Goodness knows they don’t make many of them nowadays. He has a laugh that literally makes a room light up. My very own living cliché. The only problem is, I can come up with ten thousand reasons he’s “out of my league.” If only I could suck it up and—
“There you are!” Sandy’s shriek almost sent the cream puff in Bonnie’s hand flying. Her pen slid across the page of her diary with an angry dash.
With a scowl directed at the intruder, Bonnie hurriedly snapped her precious book shut. She moved to wipe the smeared cream off her cheek and tucked the diary into her satchel, zipping it up for good measure.
“You’re the grim reaper, I swear,” Bonnie grumbled, more annoyed that she’d done a poor job of hiding than the fact that she’d become part of her favourite dessert. They’d been decorating the top floor for the party since morning; all she’d wanted was a quiet break. Bonnie once again cursed herself for allowing Sandy to drag her into the planning committee for the tenth time that day.
She glanced up, shooting daggers at Sandy. While Bonnie worked in IT, Sandy was in Marketing. They had been two wide-eyed interns together, and despite Sandy working four floors up, they’d become fast friends.
“Mm, this is good.” Bonnie realised that while she’d been stuck inside her own head, Sandy had helped herself to her food.
“I swear I will start charging you for every time you use me for my snacks,” Bonnie complained, tucking in an earphone.
“Well, hello there. What’s this?” Bonnie felt her heart drop. She followed Sandy’s gaze as the blonde leaned over her shoulder, peering at the computer screen. Bonnie’s face burnt bright red as she scrambled to close the grainy image she’d forgotten she’d left open.
“Why do you have a picture of Nick Foster?” Sandy mused. “That was from the 2017 office party, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bonnie blurted, the words tumbling out too fast.
“You’re such a lousy liar. I know what I saw.” Sandy grinned knowingly.
Wait. Nick?
“His name is Nick Foster?” Bonnie mused, then mentally kicked herself for egging her friend on. Nick Foster. Why did that sound wrong? She frowned. “That’s not his name.”
The words rushed out with so much conviction she might as well have been defending her own identity.
“Uh, I think I speak for every woman when I say I’d recognise him in my sleep,” Sandy smirked. “You can’t confuse a face like that in a sea of them.”
A pang of fierce jealousy flooded Bonnie’s chest. She shook it off, realising how ridiculous she was acting.
“Oh.” Suddenly feeling dumb, she sat there wringing her fingers in her lap. She lost herself in her mind again. This was happening more often lately—saying or doing weird things that made little sense, like her recent palate for red wine. She didn’t even like alcohol! Or so she thought.
Just then, a recurring dream flooded her mind. It had been plaguing her since the first time she laid eyes on him. The weird part? In the dream, she was meeting him for the first time, too. The details were precise. Too precise.
“You are the one with the amazing computer hacking skills, you’ve been working here for three years, and you don’t know who Nick Foster is?” Sandy blinked as if Bonnie had grown an instant moustache.
For the life of her, yes, she was a computer geek—a damn good one—and she could find the guy’s entire life story with one button. But Bonnie couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to. Where was the fun in that? She was an unapologetic, old-fashioned sentimental fool.
So sue me.
If she was going to find out who Mr A really was, she wanted a real challenge. Something along the lines of walking up to him, smiling, and saying, “Hi, I’m Bonnie. What’s your name?” without passing out.
“Keep your voice down, will you?” Bonnie scolded. “So I live under a rock. Sue me.”
“Wait a minute, is this the guy you’ve been crushing on? That explains this!” Sandy giggled, waving her hands at the screen. Bonnie rolled her eyes, sighing.
“Aren’t you supposed to be going? Lunch break is over,” Bonnie noted, tapping the glass of her watch.
“Whatever, but I totally get you. He is as charming as a god.” Sandy did an exaggerated shiver, then patted Bonnie’s back in approval. “Fooling around with the enemy. I like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sandy’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I think we’ll both have much more fun watching you discover what that means.”
Sandy circled the desk and dropped like a sack of potatoes into the visitor’s chair. “You should come with me tonight. I’m sure he’ll be there. The rule is you must stay for more than an hour this time.”
Bonnie remained quiet, her teeth biting into her lower lip.
“I’ll be your wingman!” Sandy added.
Well, Bonnie direly needed support if she wanted to see this through. Plus, Sandy would keep her from making a fool of herself.
“Will you leave if I say yes?”
“Count on it.”
“Pick me up at six-thirty. My place.”
Sandy jumped up with a squeal. As promised, she backpedaled from the station with both thumbs up and a grin so wide it would give Jim Carrey’sThe Maska run for its money.
