Page 8 of The Best Wrong Move

“There are no curtains.” I start to panic all over again. If Abby’s best solution is to close some nonexistent curtains, I’m screwed.

“What?” She momentarily loses focus, then snaps back to attention. “Okay, cheap ass Airbnb owner,” she mutters under her breath. “Then you need to go to the bedroom or something and make a phone call without Rex accidentally seeing or hearing you through that big, curtainless window. Call the owner and tell them you have to cancel your reservation. While you do that, I’m going to see if I can find you another place to stay so you don’t end up sleeping on that big ol’ beach out back once your reservation’s been terminated.”

Right.

I sink even lower onto the floor.I already know there won’t be another extended reservation that I can afford alone. This place was a steal of a deal, probably because it’s a tiny connected townhome compared to the more spendy single-family homes. I dumped most of my savings into this trip. I’d be lucky to get half my money back, if anything at all, since I’ve officially checked in now.

“Thanks, Abby,” I say quietly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she replies. “Let’s see if this works first.”

“Do you think this is fate? Do you think we were put here together to, you know, give things another shot?” Even saying the words out loud, I’m pretty sure that a second chance with Rex is not what I want. The way he left for good so suddenly, the same day I proposed to him, made me question whether or not he’d already been planning to leave me.

“No.” The word shoots out of Abby’s mouth with a level of confidence that catches me by surprise. “Just go make that call before he sees you. It’s best to let this chapter of your life stay closed for good.”

Chapter 6

I run to the bathroom and lock the door, even though I know I’m alone in here. Then I open my Airbnb reservation to find my host’s phone number, who, according to the app, is named Dom.

I call him four times. He finally answers just as I’m about to give up and send him a message in the app.

“Hello?” His voice sounds crisp, like I woke him up or something, but it’s too late in the day for that.

“Oh, Dom, thank God, you answered.” I need to chill. I sound desperate. “It’s Dom, right? Does everyone call you that or—”

“Who’s asking?” He sounds distracted.

“I’m renting your Airbnb. My name’s Olivia. Olivia Hillcrest.”

“How’d you get this number?”

Okay, now he sounds just plain annoyed.

“Uh, your number was on the Airbnb listing. Where else would I get it?”

“It shouldn’t be. That’s a mistake. Let me get you the number for my property manager. His name is Phil. Hang on.”

“Oh, okay.” I sigh, annoyed that I’m getting the runaround to another person.

After getting Phil’s information, I reluctantly hang up and call the number Dom gave me. After four unanswered attempts, I call Dom back. Twice. He answers on the third attempt.

“Hello?” He sounds even more aggravated this time.

“Hello again!” I force bravado into my voice, trying to charm him into staying on the line with me. “It’s Olivia. Listen, Phil isn’t answering his phone, so I thought I’d chat with you instead.”

“That wasn’t really what I said. You’ll need to wait until Phil gets back to you.”

“But I haven’t even told you what I’m calling for. You do own this place, right?”

“Which place?”

“The left one?”

I hear him snort. “Yeah, that doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“Oh. How many Airbnbs do you own?”

“I’d really appreciate if you’d work with the property manager on this. Like I said, his name is Phil and—”

---