First-Time Caller (Heartstrings, #1)

by B.K. Borison

Aiden Valentine: Do you ever wonder what the point of it all is? Caller:…What? Aiden Valentine: What’s the point of all this? What are we doing? Are we just bumbling around? Hoping for the best? [pause] Caller: I asked if I should bring my girlfriend flowers more often. Aiden Valentine: Flowers die. Everything dies. Caller: I thought this was a romance hotline.

My daughter is whispering on her cell phone in the middle of the night and she’s hiding it. This is how every Dateline episode starts.

“Give me your phone.” Her fingers tighten around the case. “It’s not what you think,” she whispers. “You have no idea what I’m thinking right now.” “Yes, I do. You have your Dateline face on. You’re probably thinking that you should have kept a closer eye on my internet use, but I’m telling you it’s not what you think.”

“Maya called in to ask for dating advice.” My hand clenches around the phone. “Dating advice? She’s twelve.” “She didn’t call for herself. She called for you.” He makes a small huff of amusement. “My name is Aiden Valentine and you’re live with Heartstrings, Baltimore’s romance hotline.”

“This is a live conversation?” I nod. “Mm-hmm.” “Right now?” “That’s what this little blinking red light tells me.” “Oh, good.” Lucie sounds winded. “I was worried this would be embarrassing.” I grin at my control board. “What do you have to be embarrassed about?” “You’re right. What could possibly be embarrassing about my daughter calling in to a radio station to discuss my love life?” “Lack of a love life,” Maya amends.

while an ad for a tree farm spins in the background.

Why can’t this be the one thing I don’t have to try at? Why can’t it be a thing that just…happens? I don’t want—I don’t want to think about what I should say or how I should act or…or have talking points in the notes app of my phone for a dinner date at a restaurant that I don’t really like. I want to feel something when I connect with someone. I want sparks. The good kind, you know? I want to laugh and mean it. I want goose bumps. I want to wonder what my date is thinking about and hope it might be me. I want…I want the magic.”

“But what’s wrong with being a romantic? I can be a confident, independent woman and still want someone to hold my hand. To ask about my day. It’s a good thing to want passion and excitement and care. Attention and affection. I don’t want to settle for anything less than that. And I think I’ve just figured out—I think that’s why I’ve been sitting on my couch.

I don’t want to be with someone if they’re not giving me something I don’t already have. I don’t want to waste my time on things that don’t feel like everything I’ve always wanted for myself.”

“I want goose bumps. I want to be wanted. All this time and I—I haven’t given up. I guess I’m just waiting for it to find me.”

“Oh shit,” I whisper. Because there’s only one thing Grayson would be this pissed about. The man hates not being included, and if he knows Maya hosted an emotional intervention without him, the very thing he’s been trying to do for years, then that can only mean— He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He knows about the radio interview.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having trouble with dating? Me”—he rocks me back and forth again—“the platonic love of your life.”

me—I haven’t wanted to talk about that with anyone. Especially Grayson. My oldest friend. The father of my child. My co-parent. The platonic love of my life.

Caller: I just think I’m a good candidate, is all I’m saying. Aiden Valentine: For what? Caller: Dating Lucie. Aiden Valentine: [sighs] Aiden Valentine: You and the rest of Baltimore. Caller: She sounded hot on the phone, you know? Aiden Valentine: That doesn’t explain why you think you’re a good candidate. Caller: Some women say I have a magical di— [dial tone]

“Can I—” I clear my throat. “Can I help you?” The words sound clumsy as they trip out of my mouth, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still staring at the sign. “With a root canal?” she asks, distracted. I laugh. “I don’t think you want me in your mouth.”

“I mean—I don’t—I don’t have any dental qualifications. To be in your mouth.”

“Help me out here,” I beg. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me.” I scratch once at the back of my neck. “Any chance we can restart this conversation?” She gestures at me with her hand. A quick flick down and up again. “And stop all of this from happening?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

she grins at me. Beautiful, I think hazily, my brain clearly somewhere on the floor with the dust bunnies and the Slurpee stain Eileen left six months ago. She’s really fucking beautiful.

And a part of me, a teeny-tiny sliver of myself, is still waiting. To bump into someone on the street or pick up the wrong coffee order. For the right person at the right time in exactly the right place. To not have to try so damn hard at any of it. It’s the romantic in me that Aiden laughed at. And maybe it’s childish or naive or whatever, but it’s me. I’m allowed to want soft, special things.

Caller: I want to believe in it, you know? That there’s something—someone—out there waiting for me. But it can be hard. Sometimes I lose hope. [pause] Aiden Valentine: Yeah. Me too.

When we had Maya as confused and terrified teenagers, Grayson and I made a promise that we’d never do anything alone. We knew our family would look a little different, but we also knew it would always have the most important thing. Love. Buckets of it.

I don’t want to fight with Grayson. I never want to fight with Grayson. He’s been the one constant in my life. Just because our love didn’t work as a romance doesn’t mean that love disappeared. For a long time, it was just the two of us against the world. He’s used to knowing everything about me. Every thought. Every fear.

“Tell us about him,” Mateo says. “Aiden.” “He’s…” Hot, my brain supplies. Also, kind of a disaster. I’m not entirely confident he knows how to talk to people when he’s outside the booth. He hosts a radio show about love, but he doesn’t believe in it himself and he wants me to help him remember how. I think. I keep sharing things with him I don’t mean to. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

I don’t know if any of us have any idea what we’re doing. But we’re trying, yeah? We can all be trying together. I like knowing that I’ve got you on the other end of this thing, listening to me. While I’m here, listening to you.”

“This is your booth now too. According to Maggie.” She gives me a tight smile. “Only for a few evenings a week. For a limited run.” I nod. “Or until you get sick of me. Whichever comes first.” She keeps staring at me. “That was a joke,” I offer. I can’t read her at all. “It was very funny.” “That must be why you’re laughing so hard.” I push off the door. Her eyes follow me. The barest hint of a smile twitches at her mouth. She fights it though. And it somehow makes me like her even more. “You’re going to tear me apart, aren’t you?” I murmur. “Don’t worry, Aiden.” Her smile blooms. There’s a secret there, somewhere. “You’re safe with me.”

“You know why you’re here, Lucie, and you know what you want. Don’t pretend otherwise. Let’s find your magic, whatever that looks like. This whole place is Team Lucie.” “Even you?” “Especially me.”

I drag her chair toward me until we’re pressed together shoulder to wrist, her outer thigh tucked tight to mine beneath the desk. Her chin tips up as she stares at me with a dumbfounded look, her bangs in her face. “Did you just manhandle me?” “I manhandled the chair,”

Lucie jumps next to me. Her knee drives up into the table and my hand finds her thigh, urging her still. I squeeze gently, letting my thumb trace over the surprisingly soft material.

Lucie Stone: Are those people calling in? Aiden Valentine: Yup. Lucie Stone: To talk to me? Aiden Valentine: Yup. Lucie Stone: Oh, wow. Get ready to be disappointed, Baltimore. Aiden Valentine: Get ready to be charmed, Baltimore.

“Aiden. I’m literally here because I’m garbage at dating. We’re going to have to walk before we run.” I laugh. “Okay, fair point. Let’s start somewhere easy. Do you have a celebrity crush?” Her blush intensifies. It’s unexpected and cute as hell.

“I like thinking that I’d be worth the trouble of something like that,” she confesses quietly. Her shoulder shrugs up to her ear. “I like thinking that it doesn’t need to be fancy to be special. Maybe…maybe they’d remember I like fountain soda best or daisies instead of roses. Little things that’d let me know they’ve been paying attention.”

“I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.”

My knee taps against hers with every twist to the left. She doesn’t move away and neither do I. I’ve decided a little touching is okay. As long as she doesn’t mind.

I reach forward and brush my hands beneath her hair, my knuckles ghosting against her neck. My hands must be cold because she shivers, her eyes jumping to mine. They really are the prettiest green. Pale emerald in the center, a dark ring at the edges. Like treasure beneath still waters. I tug her headphones off her neck and push them carefully over her ears, making sure I don’t catch any of the shiny silver hoops looped around her earlobe. I tuck her hair beneath the band and my hand lingers.

Lucie Stone: You guys, Aiden told me he watches YouTube videos and cries. Aiden Valentine: [sighs] Lucie Stone: Big, fat tears. Aiden Valentine: What’s the point of a secret if you’re going to share it with the world? Lucie Stone: [laughter] Aiden Valentine: It’s not funny. Lucie Stone: Then why are you smiling?

keep the other stuff to myself. How her eyes are the prettiest green I’ve ever seen. How the freckles across her nose are a match for the ones dusted over her shoulder—the ones I keep getting a glimpse of every time the collar of her sweater slips. How her laugh is husky and warm and makes her whole body come alive. That it starts somewhere in her belly and twirls ribbons around her, making her fucking glow. I’m noticing things I shouldn’t be noticing and I’m not as mad about it as I should be.

Lucie Stone: Don’t say it like that. Aiden Valentine: Like what? Lucie Stone: Like it’s something gross. Lucie Stone: It’s very pure. Poetic, almost. Lucie Stone: Come wander down my road to love. Aiden Valentine: Now you’re the one making it gross.

“Why do you even care if we service historic vehicles if you’re just going to desecrate it with an underglow? A blue underglow on a red Chevy. You should be reported to some sort of vintage car police. You should—what? What are you smiling at? Is this funny to you?” “Nah.” He rubs his palm across his grin, but it only spreads farther. His whole face changes when he smiles. He looks softer. Younger. Handsome, even. “Shit, I think I just fell in love.”

“Um, my schedule is booked for the rest of the week and most of next too, but I’m sure we could move some things around.” “I’ll wait,” he says easily. “You’re worth it.” He gives me a quick wink and something flutters in my chest. Not quite butterflies, but almost. Something. A flicker. “Just to be clear, you don’t want the underglow, right?” He laughs. “Yeah, no. I don’t want to get arrested by the vintage car police.”

“That’s what you want?” I nod and the headphone band slides forward over my forehead. I push it back and Aiden’s mouth tugs up at the right side. A half smile. Butterflies flutter to life in my chest, but I stomp down on them. Ruthlessly.

Lucie Stone: What’s the other half? Aiden Valentine: Hmm? Lucie Stone: You said half of the reason I’m on this show is to find a date. What’s the other half? Aiden Valentine: To keep me on my toes.

“Who the fuck made you cry?”

Why don’t you two come back to my office? We’ll see if we can figure this out.” “Absolutely not,” I cut in. Maggie arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “You can’t shove me back in the booth,” I say, on the verge of losing my fucking mind. I look over at Lucie again. She’s staring at the floor, arms curled around herself, eyes puffy. It’s breaking my heart. I clench my jaw and look back to Maggie. “Not until I know Lucie is okay.” Grayson makes a considering sound somewhere to the left of me. “I like this one,” he murmurs to Lucie. To me, he says, “Apologies for almost punching you in the face.”

“Maggie,” I say slowly, my voice calm despite the rage twisting in my gut. “Don’t you have some sort of database for the people who text that phone?” Grayson looks how I feel, his shoulders hunched to his ears and his mouth twisted in a frown. “An address, perhaps?” “I have an ice pick in my car,” Hughie adds from his spot by the door. Maggie presses her hand to her chest. “Jesus Christ, Hughie.”

“Lucie.” He sighs. He taps his pointer finger against my ankle, then circles it gently. He squeezes. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“Lucie,” Aiden says again, voice quiet. A hint of begging. He ducks his head closer to mine and it feels like just the two of us over here. I can smell coffee on his sweatshirt. The cookies he’s always arguing about with Jackson. I want to tip my face into the crook of his neck where the scent of him is probably strongest and hide from the rest of the world. My heart feels beat-up and bruised and I’d like to avoid it all for a little bit.

“He offered to marry me when I found out I was pregnant. It was what our parents demanded, but I said no.” “Why?” I smile softly. “Because I knew I wasn’t the love story Grayson deserved. Gray and I have spent our entire lives together, but we were never in love. We were kids when I got pregnant. I didn’t want to ruin his chance at finding his big love.”

Somewhere in the hazy in-between, a hand slips under my hair and gently squeezes the back of my neck. His thumb traces the ridges of my spine, and my whole body gets heavier. “Nah, Lucie.” In my dream, he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I think you’re the magic.”

Aiden is…here. Running, apparently. With his hair…wet?

“You’re here.” He nods, his forehead scrunching. “Yeah.” “You came to the restaurant?” “I did.”