Page 27 of Wrong Number

“Now, you said that he was really sweet to you, right? This is definitely not a fling?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “He’s not the type to have sex then run, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Not really, but I just had to check,” she said. “He sounds like a total sweetheart, from what you’ve told me so far.”

“Exactly. So I’m just overreacting, right?”

“Probably. But listen, there’s no harm in you sending him a text tonight, just after dinner, asking if he’d like to tuck you into bed with a short phone call.”

“That sounds very specific,” I said.

“Trust me, it’s very strategic,” she said. “First off, you want him to picture you all snuggled up in bed. But also, you want to appear casual. You just wanted to see if he was into a quick chat to say hello. You’re not checking up on him or anything.”

I nodded to myself, staring up at the gathering clouds. “Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

“Ask him about work, and if he doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t pry. Just tell him some light stories from your office today, then say good night quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re needy.”

“I get it,” I said. “Yes, the last thing I would want to do is seem clingy.”

“Especially since you just had sex for the first time,” Megan said. “Some chicks completely flip their shizz after that happens, and are suddenly a barnacle attached to the guy so that he could never shake her again.”

“You know I’m not like that.”

“I know,” she said with a laugh, “But you two are still getting to know each other, so you have to make sure that he knows that.”

“Okay, I get it. Thanks.”

“If he contacts you before that, just be light and breezy. If he doesn’t respond to you at all tonight, do not contact him tomorrow. Wait until Thursday.”

My eyes rolled automatically. “Is there some sort of rulebook I should be aware of?”

“Don’t worry, sister, I’ve got you,” Megan said. “I have discovered all of this stuff from endless dating scenarios. Trust my experience.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sure he’s just tired and distracted,” she said gently. “Don’t panic. Remember, he’s still in the process of fitting you into his life. Things are going to be a little uneven for a while.”

“That makes sense. Thanks, Megan, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No problem.”

I felt a lot better, especially after I discovered that today’s special was the chicken and spinach wrap that I absolutely loved.

Returning to the office with a lot more spring in my step, I churned through all of the scheduling for the month, assisted patients with all of their appointment bookings, and quietly spread the word that we would be selling eyeglasses here on the premises in just a few weeks.

During the afternoon lull at three-thirty, I went to make myself a cup of tea, desperately trying to think positive thoughts.

I knew in my heart that Tyler wasn’t the type to take off on me without a word. The strange fluttery panic deep inside me wasn’t real, I tried to tell myself.

As I sat quietly in the break room, I remembered a psychology article I read long ago. If a reaction is much bigger than the catalyst, that means it might be triggering childhood memories.

So if a person were to drop their pen on the floor, and burst into tears over it, it’s probably about a lot more than the pen.

Using this train of thought, I realized that my twitchiness was likely due to my microscopic worry that Tyler might absolutely disappear on me. Since every other man in my life had, that was probably the mental programming I was accus

tomed to.

This relationship would be absolutely perfect if I could either confess who my estranged father was, or if I could ensure that Tyler would never find out.

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