Page 11 of The Best Wrong Move

“I mean, it wasn’t all that bad.” She’s laughing so hard now I can barely understand her, which makes me join in until I’m bent in half too. Abby’s high-pitched cackle is as contagious as it gets. “That little thing still had some life left in it. He must have found the old charger too, because that baby powered right up!”

Tears are squeezing out the corners of our eyes. We both swipe them away like seasoned pros, not smearing our mascara.

“I’m just picturing him digging around his desk drawers, trying to find the cord to charge that thing, after being out of service for nearly two decades,” I howl. “He had to be so excited when he found it!” I hold my fork up, pretending that I’m Roy holding up the pager. “It lives!”

“That’s when you know something’s gotta give. When you’d rather fuck a guy with an old beeper than spend one more minute at your desk!” She rubs her forehead and leans on her elbows, still laughing at the memory.

When we finally settle, I wipe away the last tear with my knuckle and smile at her. Then I lean back and sigh, taking in the view of fuchsia sunbeams shooting across the horizon. Remembering once again where I am — and who’s on the other side of my wall back at the rental.

“I need to get out of this mess.” I sigh. “I feel a little unhinged lately, which is so unlike me. And I’m starting to feel really stupid for running away from everything.”

“Following your dream is never stupid.” Abby points at the screen, suddenly serious. “Don’t second-guess this, Liv. That shorter script you sold to the theater was a sign. You have what it takes. Don’t let yourself be thrown off by your ex turning up.”

“But that was just a little play. This script is supposed to be a whole movie. It’s way more intimidating.”

“The contacts you’ve made atThe Good Day Showwill help get your script where it needs to go. Getting this two-month sabbatical was fate pushing you in the direction you’ve always wanted to go. Rex has nothing to do with your next move.”

“I definitely feel like fate is doing something right now. Though I’m not sure what.”

I fish a fortune cookie out of the takeout bag, then crack it open and smile when I read it. Then I read it out loud to Abby. “Fate makes no mistakes. Just detours on the path to your final destiny.” I nod and tuck the fortune into my palm to save it. “That is one smart cookie,” I mumble. “What does yours say?”

While Abby starts digging through her own takeout bag, I spear another chunk of chicken, but miss my mouth and drop it onto my lap. I quickly flick the saucy meat onto the sand, but it’s too late. There’s already an orangey-brown stain right where my crotch is.Wonderful.

Abby breaks her cookie in half and pulls the thin white strip of paper out.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” she reads aloud.

We smile at each other, letting both fortunes sink in.

“It seems the universe is certainly trying to tell you something.” She grins. “I think that’s fortune-cookie language forKeep going, honey. You’re on the right track.”

Chapter 8

As the final rays of daylight fizzle out over the horizon, like a laser show of pinks and golds, I say goodbye to Abby and slowly walk back up to the townhouse. Straining my eyes and ears for anyone else who may be approaching, I wipe sand off my feet and push the sliding door open on the back deck, not taking any more chances of getting stuck out front.

When I get inside, I turn on the light and shove the takeout containers into a trash bin under the kitchen sink. Then I turn on the faucet and search for a napkin or dish towel, hoping to wipe more of that orange chicken stain off my dress. But, before I can find either, a knock on the front door startles me.

I freeze.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself.

I look at the clock on the microwave. It’s only seven fifteen. The sun must go down early here, which means that could still be the Airbnb guy with the shades.

I start saying a silent prayer that either Phil or Dom is standing on the other side of that door with a stack of window shades. There’s no peephole, so I pull the bucket hat down as low as it’ll go and push the enormous red sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. Then I slide the chain lock securely on the door and attempt to open it. It takes me three yanks, but it suddenly jerks back about three inches before the chain catches in place.

It’s Rex.

My stomach slingshots to the floor.

I immediately tilt my chin down so my makeshift disguise is covering most of my face, fighting the urge to slam the door in his. It’s mostly dark out and I’m only lit from behind by the kitchen light. I hope it’s not enough to blow my cover.

“Oh, so someoneishere!” Rex stammers. “I wasn’t sure if this place was still empty or not. I saw a light on.”

That voice.I haven’t heard it in a month. It hits me like a hundred pins pricking my skin.

My heart beats frantically in my ears, breaking the silence that hangs between us.

I don’t know how to answer him.

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