Page 215 of Just for the Plot

Bower:OH MY GOD! Bennett, are you serious right now? That’s…that’s perfect.

Smiling to myself because I know how happy this will make her, Itype her back.

Bennett:And the fireplace works too. We could really have a cozy gathering.

I press send just as Gabby texts me.

I click on her message next.

Gabby:Ryland just surprised me with tickets to watch the wild card game! Ahhhh, I’m going to come see you play.

Smiling, I’m about to respond when Bower texts back. I read the preview message.

Bower:Thank you for finding this place. It means so much to me.

I press reply and type her back.

Bennett:I got you, beautiful. We’re in this together.

Once I press send, I go back to Gabby’s message, only to realize that I just texted her…

I texted her the response I was sending to Bower.

Fuck!

The immediate need to fucking throw up churns the pit of my stomach as a clammy sweat breaks out over my entire body.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What do I do?

What the fuck do I do?

Doesn’t really matter, though, when my phone buzzes and a reply from Gabby shows up.

Gabby:Umm…excuse me? Who is beautiful? And you’re in this together with who?

FUCK!

I don’t…I don’t know what the hell to do or how to handle this. I can’t tell her the truth. Bower would never forgive me, and from the convo I just had with her, she’s not even close to being ready to tell Gabby.

My phone vibrates again, but this time, Gabby is calling.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I answer the phone and close my eyes, bracing for impact. “Hello?”

“Bennett Brinkman,” she practically squeals into the phone. “Who was that text meant for? Because I know it wasn’t meant for me.”

“What, uh…what are you talking about?” I ask, knowing there is no way she’s going to buy it, but I’m just trying to gain a little more time to think about how I’m going to handle this.

“Do not mess around with me. You said, ‘I got you, beautiful. We’re in this together.’ So who isbeautifuland why are you in whatever you’re in together?”

“Oh that, yeah, uh, that’s awkward,” I say. “That did go to the wrong person.”

“Uh-huh, and who was it supposed to go to?”

“Great question, might be weird if I tell you, though, so—”

“Bennett, don’t you dare. Who was it supposed to go to?”