Mr. Wrong Number(57)

I barely hit send when Olivia responded.


Olivia: I do. I cherish our texting friendship and don’t want it to change.

Nick: Can we talk about this?



Dear God, I was about to lose my shit.

I sent Nick one last text: We’ll talk tomorrow, but she’s batshit crazy with a truckload of issues; you don’t want any of that. Trust me. I ordered your scotch, btw.





Olivia


As soon as Nick was out of sight, I went back outside and headed for the Old Market; I just didn’t feel like going home yet. Meeting Wrong Number had been my grand solution to all the meh that my life had become, but after that disappointing reveal, I really just needed comfort food.

Because the meh was bigger than ever.

Thankfully there wasn’t a line out the door when I got to Ted and Wally’s Ice Cream, which was usually the case after dark—it was a hot post-date spot. I walked up to the counter, pressed my nose against the glass, and wanted it all.

“Could I please get a chocolate malt?” It was a total cliché, but I just wanted to sad eat until I either puked or fell asleep with a chocolate mustache. I moved down the line, swiped my card, and took my malt from the smiley kid with huge gauges in his ears. “Thanks.”

I turned to exit the shop and almost ran—literally—into Glenda. I muttered something akin to ohmigodsorryexcuseme just before we both awkwardly looked at each other and quickly transitioned through the hey-I-know-you-wait-something-bad-happened-with-us-oh-this-is-uncomfortable steps.

“Hi, Olivia.” She was better than me at recovering. She smiled and said, “This is my husband, Ben. Ben, this is Olivia Marshall.”

I hadn’t even noticed the guy beside her. I tried for a smile and said, “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” I cleared my throat. “Good seeing you, Glenda.”

She looked so nice as she said, “You, too.”

I turned and started for the door, wanting to cry because—what the hell—I missed her. But just as I grabbed the handle I turned back around and said, “Hey, Glenda?”

She’d been talking to her husband, surely about me, but she lifted her head and said, “Yeah?”

I went back over to where she was standing in line and said, “I just want to apologize. I, um, I really like you and feel terrible for lying.” I knew the other ice cream customers were getting an earful, but I didn’t care. “I never meant to, it just . . . I wanted the job badly enough to let you misunderstand.”

Glenda gave me one of her super-nice, motherly smiles and said, “It’s okay, Olivia.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.” I swallowed. “I can’t imagine what you thought when you heard. I only told one person, but he was apparently the wrong person. Regardless, it was a terrible thing to do and I’m really sorry.”

“Oh. Um.” She cocked an eyebrow and said, “That person might’ve blabbed, but it was Andrea who told me.”

“Andrea?” I had no idea who she was talking about. Her husband had moved away from us and was pretending to peruse the homemade ice cream selections.

“Andrea Swirtz. My ex-intern?” She pushed up her glasses and said, “We saw her when we had lunch at Zio’s, remember?”

That girl? “How did she know?”

“She said that she overheard us talking about the column, and her ‘conscience’ compelled her to call me.” She rolled her eyes and said, “Apparently she went to high school with you. We all know how that goes.”

I didn’t remember any Andrea Swirtz, but I was going to look her up the second I got home. What a bitch.

“I need to get going, Olivia,” Glenda said, gesturing toward her husband, “but I have no hard feelings. Take this as a learning lesson and move on, okay?”

I wanted to cry again because she was being so nice. I nodded and managed to croak out something like sorryagainandhaveagoodnight before taking my malt and disappearing out into the night.

I walked a block and then sat down on a bench as it hit me, the awful truth of it all.

Holy shit.

Colin hadn’t told anyone.

I felt sick as I thought of his face when I’d been an absolute witch to him. Compared him to his dad—ugh. I pulled out my phone and texted him.


Me: Colin, I am SO sorry. I know it wasn’t you who told and I am SO sorry I was such a bitch, especially after Sex Night.



I stood and walked down another block before checking my phone.

Nothing.

I sent another text.


Me: I know you’re probably mad at me but please know that I greatly regret the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it and I am the world’s biggest asshole.



I walked the rest of the way home, and when I got to the lobby I sent another message.


Me: Okay. So you’re ignoring me. I deserve it, but please forgive me. I know we’re dicks to each other all the time, but I went beyond our usual banter and I couldn’t be more sorry. If you want to come down and talk, my door will be unlocked and I’ll be guilt-eating ramen.



I hit send, but as soon as I got in the elevator, I pushed the button for Colin’s floor.

I had to make him listen.

I took a deep breath before knocking at his door. Please don’t let Jack be home, and please don’t let some woman be there. I was reaching into my skirt pocket to check my phone, when the door opened.