Mr. Wrong Number(77)

So, so ick.

Now, my story was a little different from yours because instead of begging me to forgive him, my boyfriend actually thanked me for introducing him to the love of his life. I won’t tell you where his body is buried, but just know that I eat cake there sometimes when the weather’s just right.

Seriously, though, the thing that matters is how YOU feel about him. If you genuinely love the man and want a future with him, I suggest therapy. I’m sure if you talked this through with a professional, you could eventually forget that gaping I’m-almost-there expression and have a happy life together. Check it out, and good luck, Miss O!

Love,

Olivia



It made me happy. Writing was the only thing that made me happy anymore, because it was the only thing that distracted me from thinking of him. I’d written more since that horrible morning than I had my entire life, because the minute I stopped typing, that jerk came into my head.

I’d never thought my heart could hurt more than it had with Eli. I’d been blindsided by his betrayal, absolutely shocked that he and I hadn’t been on the same page. But after the breakup, I’d been able to see the cracks. We’d been living two separate-but-parallel lives for a pretty long time, and I’d been blind to it.

Colin, on the other hand . . . everything had been movie perfect. I hadn’t wanted it to be, but our relationship had been better than everything I’d ever daydreamed about.

But now it was tainted.

I’d never know if any of those seemingly perfect moments were genuine, or if they’d been the result of his manipulation of what I’d shared with him via Wrong Number.

And that just sucked.





Colin


“Here’s your key, man.” Jack handed me his copy and looked around my condo. It looked exactly the same, of course, because he’d contributed nothing to the decor except his shit in the guest room, but it was weird that he was leaving after being my roommate for so long.

He’d decided to move in with Vanessa, which was probably best for both of us. I would have my place to myself, and he would have a shot at a happily ever after. I’d rather die than have my dad discover I no longer had a roommate, but since he hadn’t spoken to me since our dinner, odds were good that he wouldn’t find out for a while. I took the key and said, “Thanks.”

“If you ever need a place to stay, y’know, feel free to shoot me a text.” He grinned and put his hands in his pockets, and I noticed for the first time that he and Olivia did the same nose-crinkle thing when they smiled. “Although I guess I don’t have an air mattress anymore. Stupid sisters ruin everything.”

When Jack asked me what’d happened with Olivia after a night when I’d gotten way too hammered, I figured the least I could do was let her tell him. That way, she could throw it whatever way she wanted.

I’d said, “Livvie should be the one to tell you,” and then I think I’d actually hiccuped.

I’d expected him to kick my ass for hurting her, but he had hugged me, instead. My patheticness must’ve been crystal clear on my face because he’d said, “Fuck, man,” and swallowed me in a bear hug.

Thank God I had Jack. If I’d lost them both, it would’ve been too much. I said, “So it’ll be BYOAM?”

“Yep.” He laughed. “Bring your own air mattress.”

“You going to Billy’s for the game Saturday?” I hoped he said yes because I didn’t want an awkward goodbye.

“You know it.”

“See you Saturday, then.”

Jack nodded. “See you Saturday.”

After I shut the door, I turned on some music and went into my office. It’d been a month now since Olivia found out the truth, and I’d given up trying to change her mind. She’d blocked my calls and wouldn’t let me into her apartment, and she’d even taken the huge bouquet of flowers I sent—my last-ditch effort—and left them on the table in the lobby, where they slowly died a little more each day.

I hadn’t seen her face since that morning, and it was killing me.

But that was that.

It was done.

I’d read her column a few times and it was amazing. I was happy that she’d landed a job that seemed perfect for her. It was funny and self-deprecating and so incredibly Olivia that I’d had to stop reading it because I missed her too much.

I logged into my laptop and started working, but everything felt wrong. Maybe it was just because Jack was gone and I was alone, but everything felt off. Things should’ve been back to normal—Liv and I hadn’t even been officially a thing to begin with—but the world was just shit now.

I leaned back in the chair and ran a hand over my chin. Jillian thought it was just because I’d never been dumped before. She thought the shock of being a dumpee was making this rough on me, and it probably had next to nothing to do with the actual girl.

She was so wrong.

I started thinking about that morning again, like I always did, thinking about all the things I wished I’d said. They wouldn’t have made a difference in us staying together, but perhaps I’d feel less shitty about the whole thing if she’d have let me explain.

I went to her magazine’s website and clicked on the Oh, Olivia! page.

It seemed like a pathetic, incredibly lame thing to do, but I clicked on the form to submit a letter. I probably wouldn’t end up sending it, but it might prove therapeutic, right? I stared into space and tried to come up with words.