Page 102 of Mr. Wrong Number

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 theapartment 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 aboutanythingyet, actually—”

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