Mr. Wrong Number (Mr. Wrong Number, #1)

by Lynn Painter

It was super weird that babe was where he was getting tripped up, as opposed to the monstrosity of an oedipal-lingerie suggestion,

I texted: Would you prefer something less mommish? Mr. Wrong Number: Oh, no—it sounds totally hot. You cool with me rocking cargo shorts, socks with sandals, and your dad’s jockstrap?

Mr. Wrong Number: I texted the wrong number, didn’t I? Me: Yeah, you did.

“I know what you’re thinking.” “You couldn’t possibly.” “I went to my parents’ house, and my mom sent me home with a bag full of clothes. She didn’t have any luggage, so I had to put them in a Hefty bag.” “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jack said, “I think his title is something like senior financial analyst.” I tried to picture it. “For real?” “For real.” He started peeling the label off his beer as he said, “It gives him an unfair advantage in fantasy football that pisses me off.”

“That’s because you always assumed the worst about him.” “No, I didn’t.” “Oh, come on. He always gave you shit, and you couldn’t take it so you decided he was Satan.” “You have to admit, he has the slick overconfidence of Lucifer.”

they were staring at the lighter in my hand, two frozen dudes who appeared to be holding their collective breaths. “Oh, my God, would you two relax? My one fire was more than enough.”

“I never doubted that you’d be gone in a month.” Jack snorted. “You didn’t? Man, you had way more confidence in her than I did.”

Holy shit. Miss Misdial is Olivia? She couldn’t be. What in the actual fuck?

“What kind of car do you drive, Beck?” “Don’t do that.” “Tesla? Benz? Beemer?” “Nope.” “Audi?” His jaw clenched. “I knew it!” I grinned at him, all lit up inside from the knowledge that I’d been able to get the best of him for once. “That car is a major rich-boy accoutrement, and you know it.” “Sounds like someone is jealous.”

I shook my head, a little embarrassed by the fact that I’d spent extra time on hair and makeup that morning, just in case I saw Colin. “When I got up this morning, he was already gone.”

She looked absolutely confused. Same, Marshall. Hard same.

Colin: Relax. I was just messing but you went radio silent fucking fast.

Jack’s little sister, Jack’s little sister, Jack’s little sister.

I read it twice, then read it again. The kiss? They kissed? Nick fucking kissed Olivia?

Then I fired off a text to that motherfucker. You KISSED her? Why the fuck did you kiss Olivia?

“Dude, why don’t you stop looking at my sister’s ass?” Jack was giving me a weird look that I wasn’t in the mood for.

“Is something going on with you two?” I breathed in through my nose and apparently took too long to answer because Jack’s mouth dropped open. “My sister—are you kidding me?”

Jack touched the front of his tousled hair. “Dammit, Beck, I think you fucked up my hair.” “I think your barber fucked up your hair.”

“Is that why you’ve been an asshole for the past week?” I grabbed it and stood. “Have I?” “You pulled out the entire kitchen faucet because of a drip.” He coughed out a laugh and added, “Like a total psychopath.”

Had I ever eaten there? Um, since my parents’ house was three blocks away, I’d eaten there a hundred times. My grandparents had rented the entire restaurant for their anniversary party, and the firm had their Christmas party there every year. The chef was my uncle Simon’s golf partner. But Liv already thought of me as pretentious, so I wasn’t thrilled for her to find out that the overpriced steakhouse was where we’d had my high school graduation lunch.

What in the hell? She was out with me but thinking about Nick? Texting Nick from the bathroom?

“What’d you do tonight?” I immediately felt like trash as I pictured Olivia in the elevator. “Not much. Just grabbed a bite.” “For fuck’s sake, Beck.” Jack rolled his eyes at me over the refrigerator door and said, “You can tell me if you were with her.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and dropped down onto one of the stools. “I was with her.” “No shit,” he muttered. “You’re dressed like a douchebag on the prowl. If you weren’t with her, I would have questions.”

I tried to sound casual. “So, what was that Eli guy like?” Jack started laughing. “Oh, my God, you are so adorable I want to pinch your fucking cheeks. Look at you, all insecure about the ex.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so insecure in my entire life. Just be yourself, sunshine, and she will love you as much as I do.”

It was like that line in You’ve Got Mail. “All this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings.”

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—”

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 shook my head but wanted to push my face into his warm palm. “I just don’t—” “I love you.” Everything went quiet in the world as his words crashed into me. “What?”

I watched her process it. Her dark eyebrows crinkled together the way they always did when she was working through something she didn’t quite understand, and she blinked fast. Her green eyes stared into my soul, seeing all of me, and I swear to God I started sweating. Because—holy shit—what the hell had I just said?

“Dammit, Liv—” “Don’t call me that.” “Well, then, dammit, Olivia.” I gritted my teeth. “And can you maybe not air quote my feelings like it’s a joke?”

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.

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

I love you, Olivia, but this is killing me. I have to get away from all of this.” My heart was pounding. “You still love me?” He shook his head. “Stop it. That’s not the point.” “Oh, my God, it is, too.”

You aren’t a hot mess at all, Livvie. You’re just this . . . this . . . human tornado who is so alive, so filled with the energy of the moment, that there occasionally is a little collateral damage.”