Mr. Wrong Number(28)
I unlocked the door, pushed it open, and immediately saw Olivia standing on the couch.
“Into the unkownnnnnnn!” She was scream-singing along to the animated movie on the TV while her two nephews ran around the living room, shrieking out the lyrics, as well. “Into the unknowwwwwnnnnn!”
The little one saw us and stopped running. Olivia, however, kept bouncing on top of my couch in her stupid Cookie Monster pajama top and green plaid flannel pants.
“Shit.” I hadn’t meant to mutter it out loud, but the damned top brought to mind Olivia’s ass in her Eat the Rich underwear.
“Who is this?” Harper asked, smiling down at the kid.
“My unwanted houseguest’s nephew.”
Olivia heard that. Her head whipped around and she dropped to a sit before scrambling to her feet. I shut the front door and she gave us an embarrassed smile. “Um . . . don’t you just love Frozen?”
Colin said, “More than life itself.”
She pushed her wild hair out of her face. “I thought you were out for the night.”
Harper, ignoring our exchange, walked into the living room and went straight for Olivia. “I love it. I used to listen to the soundtrack in my car all the time.”
“Shut up—me too!” Olivia gave my date a full-on grin before saying, “I’m Olivia, by the way. Colin’s unwanted houseguest.”
Harper gave me a bitchy glare before saying to Liv, “I don’t know, I think you seem like a delightful houseguest.”
I dropped my keys onto the counter and couldn’t believe it. Uptight, judgy Harper was smiling and chatting away with Olivia as if they were best friends. Shouldn’t she be jealous or have questions or just be generally irritated by Olivia’s presence?
“Anyone want a drink?” I asked as I walked over to the liquor cabinet, not really interested in their answers. I was done.
“I’d love a vodka cranberry,” Harper said, barely pausing her conversation with Olivia.
“Ooh, can I have a little bit of the smiley mustachioed-man tequila?” Olivia didn’t even look over but said to Harper, “I had it my first night here and it is surprisingly smooth.”
“Really?” Harper turned back to me and said, “Can I change my order?”
As they performed a damned infomercial script about the smooth tequila, my ears started roaring. Because—holy shit—was Olivia talking about—
“Are you talking about the Rey Sol?”
She looked over, clearly irritated that I’d interrupted. “I don’t remember what it was called.”
I reached for the bottle and sure enough, it was half-gone.
I turned around and said to her, “You opened a sealed bottle of someone else’s liquor?”
She blinked. “So?”
“So who does that?”
Her eyebrows went down and she looked defensive. She put her hands on her hips and said, “I didn’t think it was a big deal, I can just get you another one.”
“You’re going to replace my four-hundred-dollar tequila?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. I thought she was going to apologize, but instead she said, “Oh, my God, who is stupid enough to spend four hundred dollars on a bottle of booze?”
I felt my neck getting warm. “Regardless of the price, you should—”
“And that bottle is so cheesy. Who would think it’s a good idea to put a face on a bottle of expensive tequila?” She looked at Harper before pointing at the bottle and telling her, “It’s the opposite of luxury. A bottle of Mad Dog has more elegance. I mean, seriously.”
I took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of my nose, and said, “Let me get this straight. You drank half a bottle of tequila by yourself on your first night here?”
“Oh.” She dropped her arms to her sides and did something with her mouth, like she was biting the inside of her cheek, before she mumbled, “Well. No. I spilled some in the sink when I was trying to get it open. I actually only had one glass.”
So Olivia had poured half the bottle down the drain. And not just any bottle, but the ceremonial bottle my sister bought for me the day I graduated from college. The bottle we’d agreed not to open until I went a solid ten years without caving and going to work for the family business.
“How the hell do you dump out half the bottle when you’re opening it? Explain that magic to me.”
“Um, I think I’m going to go.” Harper hitched her handbag higher on her forearm and said to Olivia, “It was nice meeting you.”
I tried not to grit my teeth as I asked, “Are you sure—”
“Thanks for dinner, Colin,” she said while not even looking back at me. She was all forward motion as she hit the entryway and exited the apartment, the door slamming hard behind her.
“I have to go potty,” the older kid said, and Olivia replied while glaring at me, “Okay, make sure you wash your hands.”
She picked up the little one and continued looking at me like I smelled bad.
“What?”
She tilted her head. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”
“Why would I?”
“Why would you?” She said it like I was a moron. “Um, because she was your date and you kind of acted like an A-hole . . . ?”