Mr. Wrong Number(69)
“Thankfully, I went to college with Glenda Budd at the Times, so I was able to call her and poke around.”
Oh, my God; she’d talked to Glenda.
“And while she couldn’t confirm the 402 Mom thing, she was able to tell me that the writer always met her deadlines, provided exemplary work, and was a delight. Glenda was sad to see her go.”
“She said that?”
“She did. Now.” She cleared her throat. “How do you feel about embracing your bad luck? Making it your strength?”
Colin gestured that he was going to go, but I shook my head. I wanted to tell him all about it when I was done.
“Can you stay like five more minutes,” I whispered.
He looked surprised and said, “Of course.”
He went over to the couch and sat down, grabbing the remote like he was at home in my apartment.
I said, “I’ve spent my entire life laughing at myself and my bad luck, Elena; that’s kind of my sweet spot.”
She started talking, brainstorming, and we just clicked. As opposed to 402 Mom, this would be capitalizing on who I was, adding my own ridiculous anecdotes into the column. We talked for an hour before she asked if I could come in the following day for a formal interview.
When I finally got off the phone, I went over and plopped down next to Colin. “I am so sorry that took so long.”
He muted the TV. “Shut up. Tell me all about this job.”
And I did. It was Colin, so I should’ve played it cool and acted like it was no big deal so he couldn’t mock me later, but I’d pretty much left guarding myself from him by the wayside. I told him every detail, and when I was finished he said, “Just make sure you get what you’re worth.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, I don’t exactly have a lot to bargain with.”
“I know, but your writing speaks for itself.” He said matter-of-factly, “Don’t let them think they can have you on the cheap; you’re too good.”
I leaned against him and said, “Oh, my God, you’re so incredibly into me it’s a little pathetic. You think I’m so great and—”
I couldn’t finish because he pushed me down onto the couch, got on top of me, and shut me up in the very best way. By the time I was breathing heavy, he lifted his mouth and gave me a wicked grin. “Why do I even like you when you’re such a pain in the ass?”
I grinned back. “You’re just a glutton for punishment, I guess.”
19
Colin
I was pathetic.
Jack was staying over at Vanessa’s, so not only was I making dinner for Olivia, but I was really looking forward to having her stay the night. I’d casually brought it up, expecting her to balk since she seemed to like our strict no-sleepover arrangement, but she’d shocked me by saying that she wanted to.
For some reason, inviting her to my condo as . . . whatever the hell she was now, felt like a big deal. I’d lived with her for a month, but we’d never shared the space as anything more than friends who didn’t really like each other.
Things had changed. A lot.
My phone vibrated, which meant that she was probably home. She’d been offered the job after her interview—no surprise there because it was a brilliant idea and she was a great writer—but she’d texted that she was sticking around for a while to meet the staff and tour the building.
Olivia: Just got home and I’m starving. What time is dinner?
Me: DON’T EAT.
Olivia: Well if we aren’t eating for like an hour, I’m going to nibble or I’ll starve.
Me: No nibbling. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.
Olivia: Oh, thank God. I’ll be right there.
I’d come to the realization on my run that morning, after being sexually harassed by Liv from her balcony as I’d stretched, that things were kind of serious. I mean, technically not, since she’d yet to call me her boyfriend and still hadn’t invited me to stay the night, but they were serious for me, and I suspected for her, too. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke up in the morning, the last thing before I fell asleep. I would blow off anything to be with her, because everything was brighter when Olivia was around.
She was funny, messy, clumsy, smart, and the sexiest human I’d ever met.
The toughest thing to swallow was that neither of us had changed. Liv was exactly the same as she’d always been, but I’d never looked hard enough to see all the amazingness around the mess. And I suspected it was the same for her, too, because God knows I was just as big of an ass as I’d ever been.
“Knock, knock.” She walked in and immediately kicked off the shiny black pumps that made her legs look ridiculous. “What are you feeding me?”
“Pepperoni casserole. Tell me about the job.”
“Um.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a Vanilla Bean Blonde before hopping up on the counter beside where I was slicing the garlic bread. I glanced at her and she grinned before popping the top on the wall bottle opener and taking a sip. “I’m terrified because it sounds unbelievably perfect.”
“Money’s good?” I didn’t want to minimize the importance of liking the job, but she was so passionate about the role she’d probably work for free.