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I couldn’t sleep. Again. It was nothing new. Usually, David and I just laid in bed watching reruns until I finally drifted off. Tonight, my attention kept drawing itself to the folded piece of paper on my bedside table… ACD was written on the outside, Alex’s phone number was scrawled on the inside.
I scrolled through my phone, trying to ignore the paper. It was going swimmingly…until I found an article about Alex attending an awards night and Henry Fox fell down a rabbit hole of articles about Alex. I switched to a new tab on my phone and image searched Alex’s name. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I saved one of the images to my phone, reached over for the phone number I’d been given and typed it into a new message.
‘You always pose with your right hand in your pocket.’
‘Are you having a wank?’ I attached the picture I’d saved and pressed send.
The regret came less than five seconds later. But I could see the messages had already been opened. Oh shit. Did he have my number? That’s a very weird message to get from someone you don’t know.
‘It’s Henry, by the way.’ I sent.
‘How did you get my number?’ The message came back a few seconds later. Well, may as well be honest.
‘MI6’
‘Not kidding’ I told him, adding a picture from spy kids, I tried to hold back the smile that forced its way onto my face. I put the phone back on the bedside table to await a reply, only I fell asleep almost immediately. When I woke in the morning, I hadn’t had a response yet.
Maybe Alex didn’t want to talk to me. I thought we’d made progress when he was in London, but I could have been wrong. I often was when it came to people wanting to be friends. They either wanted access to the press and lifestyle that came with royalty, or they wanted nothing to do with me. Alex already had access to press and the lifestyle. I pushed away the dread that had become to form in my stomach and proceeded to get ready for the day. My phone was already full of notifications about an article in People Magazine that had been run with photos from a holiday I’d taken with Bea and her friend Lettice, of course, they hadn’t used any of the pictures featuring Bea.
I was rushing to a meeting with a mental health charity when my phone vibrated with a message.
‘You have a lot of moles. Is that the result of inbreeding?’ I snorted as I read Alex’s message, earning me a glare. Not having time to reply, I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
It was a few days later, I had time between a meeting and dinner with Phillip when I stumbled (aka searched the trashiest sources) across a ridiculous article about Alex becoming a father. I screenshot it and sent it to him.
‘But we were ever so careful, dear.’ I sent along with it, before I immediately panicked that I’d gone too far…again. He replied asking how I thought we should split parenting. I relaxed, until Phillip asked why I was smiling so much when I entered the dining room.
Anytime Alex or I saw an article about the other, we sent it with some ridiculous comment or other. I hadn’t realised how offensive my grey ties were and I made sure to note each and every book recommendation he sent my way, I couldn’t help hoping he did the same. Soon, texting Alex just became part of my day. One that I enjoyed a little too much.