Mr. Wrong Number(55)
It was a breakthrough. Maybe having sex with Colin had been some sort of a catalyst for emotional change.
I mean, I still thought he was a giant prick, but maybe he’d served a purpose.
Other than sexual gratification, of course.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” Sara was grinning, staring at me as I realized I’d completely zoned out. “You look a million miles away.”
Part of me wanted to tell her about Colin, to get her perspective on the whole thing, but I was too embarrassed. I still felt like an absolute idiot for trusting him to be decent. Instead I said, “So remember that Wrong Number dude I was talking to? I think I’m going to meet him for coffee.”
Colin
“Nick.”
Nick DeVry, whose office was next to mine, popped in the doorway. “Yeah, bro?”
Nick was a nice guy. He had a lumberjack beard and dressed like a golfer, all trendy polos and pants that didn’t fit quite right. “Come in here.”
Nick came in and shut the door. He still had the smile of a little kid, but the guy was so smart he’d probably be CFO in five years.
“I need a nonwork favor, Nick, and feel free to say no.”
“Oh, shit.”
“No, nothing like that. I just want you to go on a blind coffee date for an hour.”
After five beers and a lot of stewing, I’d come up with a solid plan last night. All I needed was for someone to just show up and be nice to Liv, and then she could write the whole thing off and move on. I gave Nick a half-truth about the story, saying Mr. Wrong Number was a total douche friend of mine who planned on standing her up.
“Normally I’d just butt out, but the girl has gone through a lot of shit and I feel like it could crush her. If you could just show up, say you’re Mr. Wrong Number, and have a coffee with her, that’d be it. Be boring so she doesn’t fall in love with you, of course. Then she’ll leave feeling good about herself, and I’ll buy you a new bottle of scotch.”
He started to shake his head. “She must be really ugly if you’re not doing it yourself.”
“I told you—she knows me so I can’t. She’s my buddy’s little sister.”
“That didn’t answer the question about her looks.”
“She’s beautiful.” She was, too. Swear to God my ears had started ringing when she’d climbed on my lap out on her balcony. “But she’s like a helpless, pathetic little puppy. Just make her feel good and get out.”
He looked at me and I knew he was in. He was a total people-pleaser, and also super into scotch. “I’m only doing it for the Glenfarclas twenty-five.”
“Where the hell am I going to find that?”
“I’ve got a guy.” He came over and sat on the guest chair. “Write it down. Clark Ehlers. Dundee Scotch Co.”
It was going to cost a lot, but I couldn’t leave Olivia sitting alone in a coffee shop. I spent the next ten minutes briefing him on any pertinent info he’d need from the texts, and by the time he left my office, I was positive nothing could go wrong.
16
Olivia
I put on red lipstick and added a smidge of powder to my nose. Not only was I sporting full-on evening makeup, but I’d even taken the time to put curls in my stick-straight hair. And the best thing—it was an unusually chilly night, which meant it was okay to pair my black dress with a fuzzy black cardigan, tights, and boots.
Because everyone knows if it’s under seventy, sweaters and boots are acceptable, right?
I turned off the bathroom light and couldn’t believe I was finally going to be meeting Mr. Wrong Number. I felt like I was going to puke. I was so nervous and excited, and I had to keep reminding myself that serious concerns existed about the dude.
He’d ghosted me multiple times, so he probably had weird things going on in his personal life like buried bodies, dolls made out of human hair, and a plethora of hidden wives. Hell, I was pretty convinced he would for sure ghost me tonight. That was obviously his thing.
I reminded myself of that as butterflies destroyed my stomach on the walk to the coffee shop. He wasn’t going to show, so no reason to be nervous. I took a deep breath when I got there, grabbed the handle, and opened the door.
I’d barely taken a step inside when I heard from behind me in a deep voice, “Misdial?”
I swallowed, and things went movie slo-mo as I turned around, the world turning with me as I looked to see my Wrong Number. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the guy standing there was my height, with a bushy beard and a big smile. He looked like he was ready for a frat-boy golf outing as he grinned at me.
“Wrong Number?”
He nodded and smiled and then we shared an awkward half hug. He said, “I grabbed us a table by the window.”
“Oh, awesome.” I followed him and wasn’t disappointed, per se, because he was a handsome-enough guy. But I think I’d expected to feel some sort of awareness or familiarity with him, like a major connection, and it didn’t seem like that was happening.
I slid into his booth and we shared a nervous smile. I said, “I can’t believe we’re finally meeting.”
“Right?” He nodded and smiled.
“The whole thing is just so bizarre. I mean, you were there, so you know, but still.”