Mr. Wrong Number(81)

Jack squinted. “You hate him. Why would he tell you?”

“I don’t hate him.” I stared at the TV without actually watching. He was leaving? He was leaving and wasn’t even going to tell me, like we were strangers? I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“C’mere,” Jack said to me out of the side of his mouth, glancing over at my mom with shifty eyes like he didn’t want her to hear.

I moved down to the floor and sat beside him. “What?”

“Don’t get dirty, Liv,” my mom yelled, scowling and stirring something on the stove. “We still have to take the picture.”

How the hell would I get dirty? “I won’t, Ma.”

I brought my attention back to my brother, who said, “I’m pretty sure he’s leaving because of you. You wrecked him.”

“I wrecked him?”

“Shhh—Geez.”

We both glanced over at the kitchen, but thankfully Auntie Midge was ranting about potatoes and botulism so no one had heard my little freak-out.

I lowered my voice and said, “Is that what he told you?”

He shook his head. “He never told me anything, but I’ve known him forever and I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when he proposed to Daniela and she said no.”

I rolled my eyes and forced myself not to picture his face.

“He told his sister that he can’t stand to live in the same city, much less the same building, as you, knowing he can’t be with you anymore. He said it’s killing him.”

“Shut up.” My heart started pounding in my neck. “He’d never say that.”

“Swear to God. Jillian texted me the other night because he said it when he was wasted.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled for a minute, and then showed it to me. “She wanted to know if I knew anything.”

I glanced down. She’d said it, word for word.

“Oh, my God.” I got up and adjusted my sweater. “I have to go.”

“What?” my mom yelled from the kitchen. “Where are you going? We eat in an hour.”

I looked around and everyone was staring at me. “I, um, I have to go talk to someone.”

“Oh, for the love of God, Olivia, it’s Thanksgiving.”

“I know, Ma.” I grabbed my purse from the floor. “I’ll be back.”

“We’re taking the family picture soon. What can’t wait until tomorrow?” She looked at Auntie Midge and then said to my dad, “Fred, tell her this can wait until tomorrow.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

“It can’t wait.”

“What the hell, Liv?” Will asked. Even though he was a grown-ass family man, he still got all annoying when someone dared to do something he couldn’t.

Like leave on Thanksgiving.

“Language, William,” my mother scolded, feigning horror even though I knew she wielded the f-word like a dockworker when she was alone with my dad and thought we couldn’t hear her.

“I have to talk to Colin before he leaves.” I gave Jack a look that made Will say, “Holy shit, do you have a thing for Colin Beck?”

I blinked as the entire house seemed to pause and wait for my answer. My dad even opened his eyes.

I just nodded.

“Oh, honey,” my mom said with a pitying smile, “I know the boy is handsome, but I don’t really think he’s your type.”

“What?”

“He’s just very type A, always has been. Driven, motivated, successful . . .” She trailed off as if that explained everything.

“What’s your point, Ma?”

She just raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll have you know that we were actually together for months before I dumped him.”

“What?” Will nearly yelled it. “I call bullshit.”

“Oh, Livvie,” my mother said, sounding disappointed that I was lying like an overimaginative toddler.

“You seriously don’t believe me?” I pulled out my keys and said to Will, “Screw you.”

“Language,” my mother gasped as my dad muttered, “Christ almighty.”

“I’m leaving now,” I said, running toward the door, irritated by my family but too desperate to get to Colin to care. I got in my car, put it in reverse, and flew out of the driveway, terrified he was already gone.

I glanced toward the house and saw a crowd of faces watching me, all jammed into the square of my parents’ front bay window. I knew I should wave, or feel bad for ditching them on a holiday, but I put the car in drive and took off.

I had to get to Colin, and nothing else mattered.



* * *



? ? ?

I TOOK A deep breath and knocked again.

It was my third round of loud knocks, but there was still no answer.

Come. On.

Was he gone already? Had I missed him? I wondered if Jack knew how I could find him in Chicago if he’d already left. I knocked again and then pulled out my phone.

Maybe the thing that brought us together—and tore us apart—could get through to him.


Me: Tell me exactly what you’re wearing, Mr. Wrong Number.



I slid down the wall and sat on the carpet of the hallway, without a plan but absolutely unwilling to consider what his absence meant.