Mr. Wrong Number

“You look like shit, Col.”

“Language, Jillian.” My mother glared at my sister before giving me a big smile, twisting her pearls in multi-ringed fingers. “Sit down, sweetie.”

I dropped into the chair across from my father and reached for the drink menu. Sure, I’d pregamed in the lounge, so I had a decent buzz rolling, but from his stern expression, I got the impression I’d definitely need more. I asked, “Do they have appetizers here? Like mozzarella sticks?”

My sister snorted and my dad said, “We’re not at an Applebee’s, Colin.”

“I wish we were, because I think I’m in the mood to try karaoke.”

Jillian’s eyes widened, and I could tell she was trying to discern whether or not I was drunk. I wished I were, but sadly I was sober enough to see the fight brewing in my father and the odd disconnection on my mom’s face. I decided to dial it back and said, “Kidding, you guys.”

My dad gestured for the waiter to bring him a scotch before saying to me, “So how’s business?”

“Good.” I did the slow nod and said, “Having a hell of a good year.”

He nodded. “Fantastic. Too bad it isn’t your business; not really your good year at all.”

“That is so true, Dad.”

“Been promoted lately?”

“Since the last time you asked me a month ago? Let me think.” I tilted my head. “Nope.”

“Ha ha, funny man.” My dad crossed his arms over his chest. “It just seems like you’ve been stuck in this position for a while.”

“I’m not stuck; I love my job.”

“Said the stuck guy.” He looked at me for a long minute, narrowed his eyes, and said, “You don’t get to the top by loving your job, Col. You get to the top by—”

“Can you guys knock it off?” My sister rolled her eyes and said, “As exciting as it is to talk about Col’s horrible, awful, unthinkable job as a very successful financial analyst, I would like to hear about the girl he’s been seeing.”

Just like that, my throat was frozen and I couldn’t swallow. “Not now, Jill.”

“No, we’d like to hear all about this girl, sweetheart.” My mom was beaming at me when she said, “Your grandfather called her delightful.”

“I’m not doing this.”

My dad said, “You can’t indulge your mother this one time?”

“Damn it.”

My mom whispered, “Language, Colin.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m not seeing her anymore, so it doesn’t matter.”

Jillian mouthed, I’m sorry, and I just shrugged. My father, however, took the opportunity to make me feel like shit.

“What happened with this girl? Your grandmother thought it might be serious.”

I looked down at the linen tablecloth. “Turns out it wasn’t.”

“Who ended it?”

“Dad, I don’t think that’s any of our business.” Jillian spoke up but he ran right over her.

“Why not? We’re family.” He turned his full attention on me and said, “Tell us why you broke up.”

I needed another drink, because I could tell my father was in the mood to press it. I thought about coming up with something good, some mature, boring reason, but then I thought, Screw it. It was family, so why not be brutally honest?

“Well, we were doing the whole friends-with-benefits thing and it was really great. She’s smart and funny and a real fireball in the sack, so everything was clicking, y’know?”

“Knock it off, Colin,” my father warned, looking at the table next to ours to see if Edward Russell was eavesdropping on our table’s conversation.

“No, you said we’re family and you’re right; we are. You’re the ones I should be talking to about this.” I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “Okay, so, we were banging it out all the time and having a great—”

“Stop it.” My dad leaned over the table and pointed at me. “Stop it right now, or this dinner is over.”

“Oh, no. Not dinner.” I grinned at Jillian, but she looked uncomfortable. “Actually, as long as we get to have those appetizers, cocktails, and karaoke, I don’t care if we ever get dinner.”

Jill couldn’t help herself. She muttered, “Still not an Applebee’s, Col.”

“Why are you doing this?” My father looked mad, but he also looked confused. “I don’t understand why you’d accept the invitation if you didn’t want to be here.”

“I was fine until you wouldn’t let the Olivia thing go.”

“Honey, are you okay?” My mom looked genuinely worried, and something about her gentle tone made me feel like a child, which I hated. “I’m so sorry things didn’t—”

“I’m fine.”

My dad said, “You don’t seem fine.”

I turned my head toward him and just wanted to lose my shit. Like flipping tables, hellbeast-roaring, tearing-things-up kinds of stuff. Because I didn’t want to talk about Olivia at all, but especially not with them. “Well, I am.”

“Get up.” My dad stood up, looked down at me, and said, “Let’s go outside.”

Now, my dad was an arrogant, pompous asshole, but he was never violent. He loved me and had always been a good father in his judgmental way. So I didn’t even know what to say as he stared me down.

“Sit down, dear,” my mom said, but my father was firm.

“Come on, Col. I’ll meet you outside.”

We all watched in disbelief as my father exited the dining room.

“Um.” Jillian leaned her elbows on the table. “Is Dad going to kick your ass?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, no.” My mother’s cheeks were red, and she looked at the other tables to make sure none of her Women’s League friends had noticed my family’s dustup. “He must want to talk to you in private.”

I looked at Jillian. “What do I do?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Go, darling.” My mother was speaking in a clipped, harsh whisper. “Go speak to him before we make a scene.”

I rolled my eyes and stood. “God forbid.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” Jillian lifted her fists. “I’ll be your second.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete,” my mother muttered.

“I think I’ve got this, but thanks.”

I exited the dining room and went out the club’s main entrance, clueless as to what was happening. I still had a buzz, so the entire situation was kind of amusing, but bubbling underneath it all was that part of me that wanted to destroy everyone who dared to mention Olivia’s name.

“Over here.” My dad was leaning against his Mercedes, looking down at his phone as if he were just chilling in the parking lot.

“What’s the deal here, Dad?” Just like that, I was done playing games. I needed to get out of there and go home, to the apartment that’d become a cold, sterile reminder of Olivia, before I lost it. “Let’s not go crazy and throw hands in the parking lot of the fucking club; I’ll just leave now.”

He put his phone in his pocket and scowled at me. “I want to talk without your mother stepping in to baby you.”

“Oh, well this sounds promising.”

He clenched his jaw and said, “Can you maybe knock off the sarcasm for five minutes?”

I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture so I said, “The most I can promise is three.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about.”

“Well, you weren’t really talking about anything yet, actually—”

“Come on, Colin, shut your obnoxious mouth, will you?”

Now he looked ready to explode, and I kind of wanted him to. I felt a restlessness pulsing under my skin, a tension that made me hungry for confrontation as he gave me his disappointed glare.

Still, he was my father.

I took a deep breath, counted to five, and said, “Consider it shut. Please continue.”

He looked at me for a minute, like he was waiting to see if I meant it or not. Then he gave me a sarcastic half smile. “Was that so tough?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “A little . . . ?”

That made him grin, and we were good again in our own dysfunctional way. He leaned against the car and said, “You don’t seem okay, Col.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Your mother is convinced this Olivia girl broke your heart. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I think this might be a good time for you to step back and reexamine your life.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, but I just said, “Think so?”

“I do.” He rubbed a hand over his closely trimmed beard and said, “When things don’t go as planned, we can either pout and behave like a reticent child, or take some time to reconsider our choices. Ruminate over what we’ve done in our past, and how best to move forward in our future.”

I couldn’t nod politely—I couldn’t give him the satisfaction—because that would make him think he was getting through to me. It was immature as hell, but I just stared back at him with a straight face. I’d let him talk because he was my father and I respected him, but that didn’t mean I’d let him think he was winning.

He said, “You’ve been living your life like you’re still in college, Colin. You have a roommate. You’re working in someone else’s finance department. You’re getting dumped by your roommate’s little sister. Does that sound like adult behavior?”

“Yes.”

“No.” He stroked his chin, the way he always did when he was working toward putting the exclamation point on his argument, and said, “Ditch the roommate, Col—you’re not in a frat. Leave the easy job behind and take your place at Beck. Trust me, it will feel good to stop this juvenile rebellion and settle into your grown-up life.”

“Listen, Dad—”

“And for the love of God, I think it’s time to stop dating around. Find a nice girl who wants the same things as you and get serious.”

The rage was coming back. “I did stop dating around—that’s what Olivia was.”

“No, she was convenient.” He said it like I was a clueless child who had no idea what I was talking about. “She was living with you, for God’s sake. Low-hanging fruit like everything else in your life. Make an effort to be more, Colin. To be better.”

I opened my mouth to go off, because I was fucking done, but I had to swallow my words when Brinker Hartmann, one of my dad’s buddies, approached with a huge grin on his ruddy face.

“Well, if it isn’t the young Mr. Beck. It’s been a while since we’ve been graced with your presence. How are you, Colin?”

I tried for a smile. “Good. Leaving, actually.”

My dad, who was clearly about to ditch my mom and sister for his friend’s company, said, “Are you going to go tell your mother you’re leaving?”

I glanced toward the club. “She’s sitting near the bar, so sure.”

They both laughed, but my dad’s eyes were serious. I started walking away and he said, “Think about what I said, Col.”

“Oh, I will,” I said without looking back. “Just as soon as I’m floor-licking drunk.”

Olivia

I opened the magazine and flipped to my column, Oh, Olivia!, totally geeked out to see my headshot and my words on the slick, glossy pages. Who would’ve ever thought I’d be writing an advice column? I started reading, even though I already knew every word.

Dear Oh, Olivia!

I walked in on my boyfriend with another girl, but he says he’s sorry and won’t stop begging me to come back. We were technically “on a break” that weekend after a fight, so in a way it wasn’t cheating.

I want to get over it and get back together because I do love him, but every time I look at his face, I’m triggered and have a flashback of the awful sex-face he was making when I walked in on them. Totally brings on the ick factor and I find him repulsive.

How do I forget that face? Help!

Oh-no-that-O-face

Athens, GA

Dear Oh-no-that-O-face,

Take it from a girl who once walked in on her boyfriend eating cake off his side piece’s incredibly flat stomach; the ick factor isn’t going away anytime soon. ICK! You can’t unsee that I’m-about-to-orgasm nose flare and heavy-lidded gaze any more than I could unsee my man’s tongue lifting frosting out of her belly button.

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.

Dear Olivia,

I did the unthinkable—I fell for two women.

One was charming, witty, and smart, and the other was beautiful, passionate, and more fun than anyone I’ve ever known. I could’ve spent a lifetime talking to each of them, listening to their wildly entertaining takes on the world and getting lost in their contagious laughter. I’ve never felt as alive as when I was with them, and I can’t stop dreaming about wild green eyes and tiny freckles. Dogs and elevators and pepperoni casserole.

They turned out to be the same woman, so there’s no doubt that she’s the one for me, but I think I ruined everything by being a coward. Do you have any advice as to how I can convince her—this wonder woman who can repair a broken heel with six pieces of bubble gum—to give me another chance?

I’d do anything for another shot because I’m crazy about her.

—Robot Brain, Omaha, NE

Olivia

“It’s for sure him.” I took a big gulp from my glass of wine and still couldn’t believe it. I’d read and reread that submission all afternoon, obsessed since the minute it had hit my inbox. I ticked the items off on my fingers. “They’re the same woman, dogs, pepperoni casserole, elevators—that’s totally us! And I actually called him a robot brain once, so it has to be from him.”

Sara and her husband, Trae, sitting across from me on their patio with their adorable baby as the firepit blazed between us, had stopped contributing to my conversation altogether and just watched me as I repeated the same things over and over again. Broken heel with bubble gum. Dogs. Pepperoni casserole. Elevators.

But I just couldn’t believe it was from him.

When did he learn to write like that?

It made me cry for an hour, because I still missed him so much it cramped my stomach.

I said, “Am I drunk to consider talking to him?”

“You must be drunk for sure,” Sara said and reached for the bottle. “Don’t call that asshole.”

Trae patted the baby’s back and said, “But you’ll always wonder if you should’ve talked to him if you don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sara gave him a withering look that spoke volumes.

“It’s only been a month, and you’re second-guessing whether or not you should talk to him. As time goes on, you’ll wonder more and more why you didn’t just hear him out.”

“Hmmm.” He had a point.

He stood and grabbed the pacifier from the end table. “It can’t hurt.”

I ran my hand through my hair and thought about it. “It could hurt my heart, though.”

“It’s already hurting, honey,” he said, bouncing that sweet little baby. “Just call the guy.”

Well, shit. I looked at Sara, who rolled her eyes and said, “He’s probably right.”

I went into my contacts, unblocked Colin, and started typing.

Me: Are you robot brain?

I didn’t expect him to respond immediately, but he did. Yes.

I sighed and texted: I’m sure it won’t change anything, but if you still want to talk I’ll meet you at Corbyn Coffee at 8am tomorrow.

I’d barely sent it when he responded.

I’ll be there.

I looked at Sara and Trae and my mouth fell open. “Oh, my God. He’s meeting me tomorrow morning.”

Sara let me borrow a cute fall dress before I left, and made me promise to call her the second I was done. I didn’t get much sleep that night, because I was absolutely torn on what to expect. And what I wanted. Half of me was envisioning him begging for my forgiveness and me accepting. That half imagined a day of worshipful sex, followed by his confession of undying love and our happily ever after.

But the other half of me was realistic. I imagined forgiving him, only to fall back into the precarious position of being wholeheartedly in love with him and in constant fear of it being temporary. I didn’t think I could go back to that now, so I was clueless as to what in the world I was going to do.