Mr. Wrong Number(83)

“I love you, too, Marshall.” He cupped my face and gave me the sweetest, hottest kiss, the kind of kiss that wrapped itself around you and made you feel foolishly, deliciously, unbearably loved. I let myself sink into it, no longer afraid.

I wanted to dive into every fathomless ocean with him.

And even after the smoke alarms started wailing because I passionately slammed Colin against the fire panel, he didn’t stop kissing the holy hell out of me.





Epilogue


    Olivia


TWO WEEKS LATER


Mr. Wrong Number: Did you know that I picture you naked like 24/7? I can’t stop myself. It’s becoming problematic.



I laughed and pulled the blanket up under my arms. I texted: Same. The other day I think your mother saw me staring right at your . . .


Mr. Wrong Number: Yes, baby, say it.



My breath caught, and I almost dropped the phone as I giggled. I rolled over so I was facing him and typed: You want me to text it? Or would you rather have me whisper it?

“Whisper. Now.” Colin held out his hand for my phone, an eyebrow raised and an intriguing look in his eyes.

Instead of handing it over, I tossed it onto the floor and said, “I keep telling Mr. Wrong Number I don’t need him anymore but he just won’t let me go.”

He tossed his phone beside mine and rolled on top of me. “Can you blame him? When you find your perfect Misdial, you can’t let her go.”

I felt his words pulse through my veins like thick honey. I whispered, “I love you, Mr. Wrong Number.”

Colin kissed the tip of my nose. “I love you, too, Miss Misdial.”





Acknowledgments


First and foremost, thank you to everyone who has picked up this book. This is my dream come true, this book in your hands, and I’m eternally grateful for the part you’ve played in my happily-ever-after. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and if I’m ever in your neighborhood, I’ll be happy to walk your dog; I owe you one, after all.

Endless piles of gratitude go to Kim Lionetti, my agent extraordinaire. You were with me when the first book didn’t sell, you were with me when the next one did, and you were with me when I got pulled over by the Utah Highway Patrol, texting me about offers while the dude went back to his cruiser to write my ticket. I’m beyond blessed to have you and BookEnds in my corner.

Thank you to Angela Kim, my incredible editor. From that first phone call, I knew you were the perfect person for this book, and working with you has been an absolute joy. I’m so excited—and grateful—that I get to do more books with you! (Insert cartwheels.)

Thanks to everyone at Berkley PRH; this entire process has been a pleasure. An extra-special thanks to Nathan Burton for creating such a stunning cover.

Also—Tom Colgan’s plague journals deserve all the literary awards. Just sayin’ . . .

To the Berkletes—especially India, Courtney, Amy, Lyn, Sarah ZJ, Sarah Bruhbruh, Joanna, Nekesa, Ali, Elizabeth, Libby, Alanna, Amanda, Mia, Freya, Eliza, Lauren, and Olivia—you guys are everything. I’ve heard authors give the writerly advice to “find your people,” but I always assumed that excluded this awkward dork right here who doesn’t make friends easily. Yet here I am, colluding with this super group of incredibly talented humans whom I consider to be some of my closest friends. How did that happen? Thank you for inviting me into your hilariously wonderful circle and making me cackle at my computer on a daily basis. (Also see knotting, hands, bad Chris)

A HUGE thanks to the Bookstagram community for your kindness and your willingness to help a noob like me. I am in awe of your voracious appetite for books and your remarkable organizational skills. I still don’t understand how authors are lucky enough to have you; we’re not worthy (Wayne-and-Garth style). A special scream to the delightful Love Arctually gang, all of whom I want to be my besties.

Also, thank you, Carla Bastos, Aliza Pollak, Chaitanya Srivastava, Shay Tibbs, and Indigo’s amazing Dayla—I’m so grateful that BTTM introduced me to awesome people like you. And Lori Anderjaska—thank you for being the type of person who sends me random texts of dogs yelling obscenities at each other.

And the fam:

Mom, you made me a writer by fostering my love of books. It couldn’t have been fun, walking six blocks to the library—rain (or snow) or shine—every week, but I’m forever grateful. I love you to the moon and back.

Dad, I miss you every day.

MaryLee, I don’t deserve a sister as sweet as you and I can’t wait to see your movies. It is GOING to happen.

To my kids—Cass, Ty, Matt, Joey, and Kate—you really had nothing at all to do with this book. That being said, you’re the coolest people I know and we should eat spaghetti and meatballs together soon. I love you.

Last but not least—Kevin. I mean, I dedicated the entire book to you so I think that should be more than enough, but if not, thank you for not firing me that time I accidentally checked a guest into a room where there were already guests. If you would’ve gotten rid of this slacker desk clerk after that guy screamed at you, I never would’ve been able to badger you into dating and ultimately spending your life with me. That college job was kind of a life sentence, eh? I love you the mostest.





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