Page 78 of Mr. Wrong Number

“She said that she overheard us talking about the column, and her ‘conscience’ compelled her to call me.” She rolled her eyes and said, “Apparently she went to high school with you. We all know how that goes.”

I didn’t remember any Andrea Swirtz, but I was going to look her up the second I got home.What a bitch.

“I need to get going, Olivia,” Glenda said, gesturing toward her husband, “but I have no hard feelings. Take this as a learning lesson and move on, okay?”

I wanted to cry again because she was being so nice. I nodded and managed to croak out something likesorryagainandhaveagoodnightbefore taking my malt and disappearing out into the night.

I walked a block and then sat down on a bench as it hit me, the awful truth of it all.

Holy shit.

Colin hadn’t told anyone.

I felt sick as I thought of his face when I’d been an absolutewitch to him. Compared him to his dad—ugh. I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me:Colin, I am SO sorry. I know it wasn’t you who told and I am SO sorry I was such a bitch, especially after Sex Night.

I stood and walked down another block before checking my phone.

Nothing.

I sent another text.

Me:I know you’re probably mad at me but please know that I greatly regret the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it and I am the world’s biggest asshole.

I walked the rest of the way home, and when I got to the lobby I sent another message.

Me:Okay. So you’re ignoring me. I deserve it, but please forgive me. I know we’re dicks to each other all the time, but I went beyond our usual banter and I couldn’t be more sorry. If you want to come down and talk, my door will be unlocked and I’ll be guilt-eating ramen.

I hit send, but as soon as I got in the elevator, I pushed the button for Colin’s floor.

I had to make him listen.

I took a deep breath before knocking at his door.Please don’t let Jack be home, and please don’t let some woman be there.I was reaching into my skirt pocket to check my phone, when the door opened.

There he was.

“Hey.” His face showed nothing, all business as if I were at his door selling vacuum cleaners. He looked impatient, like he wanted me to hurry.

And so detached that it hurt to breathe.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Your brother—”

I grabbed the front of his hoodie and dragged him out into the hallway. “I just need a second. Please?”

He pulled the door closed behind him and I feltsomethingskip through my middle as his Adam’s apple bobbed around a swallow. I let go of his shirt but my hand immediately missed the solid breadth of his chest.

I raised my eyes from his throat and said, “Did you get my texts?”

His jaw flexed. “My phone’s charging in the office. What’s up?”

I swallowed. It was harder to say in person. “Listen, Colin. About the other day—”

“Forget it.” His jaw clenched again and he said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I was wrong—”

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