Worst Wingman Ever (The Improbable Meet-Cute, #2)(2)

I think that’s why I was so bitter about Jeb. He wasted my time.

He also stole my neti pot, which for some reason pissed me off more than the cheating. He does not deserve clear sinuses.

“Here’s what we’re not gonna do today,” Jillian said. “We’re not gonna cry over some medium-ugly man with a receding hairline who left a four-in-one shampoo in your shower. You are a beautiful death goddess, do you hear me?”

“Death goddess. I need that on a T-shirt,” I mumbled.

“I’m coming over. We’re getting chocolate-wasted. And do not spiral deeper into your dark place. Get out of the car and touch some grass.”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

We said goodbye and hung up.

I stared out at the spa in front of my car, at a big yellow sign advertising mud wraps and flotation tanks.

It would have been nice to get a card on my windshield today. One that was for me. But I had to accept that I wasn’t getting anything I wanted and wouldn’t be for a very long time.





John

CHAPTER 2

“You had literally ONE JOB.”

My brother, Frank, was standing next to my ladder.

“I’m sorry,” I said distractedly, looking at the wires hanging out of the hole in his living room ceiling. “Who knew there were so many white Hondas?”

“Now she thinks I didn’t get her anything.”

“I will tell her it’s my fault. I messed up, it’s on me. Did you do this? Is this electrical actually something that a human person put together? It looks like the work of a family of raccoons.”

“I’m not an electrician, I’m a dentist. That’s why I called you. You know, you gave a stranger my free sex coupon.”

I twisted to look at him. “That is what I delivered? Are you kidding me?”

He shrugged.

I shook my head. “Now I’m thinking I did you a favor, losing it. And I’m also thinking I have to find the car I put it on and apologize.”

He snorted. “Dick.”

I climbed down and looked at my watch. “I’m gonna run to Home Depot and pick up the ceiling fan. What else do you need me to do?”

He looked around. “The faucet’s leaking in the kitchen, the windows need new screens. Oh, and the dishwasher isn’t working right.”

I glanced at it. “That’s because it was born in 1974. You need a new one.”

He puffed air from his cheeks. “Fine.” He dug in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Get whatever one you think is best. Are you sure I can’t pay you for the labor?”

“Consider it a housewarming gift. It’s not every day you buy your first condo,” I said.

He handed me his Amex. “I think I’ve just hit the age where I get why people are so excited to win appliances on game shows.”

“Just wait until you have to start paying those HOA fees.”

He laughed. “You sure you have time for this?”

I didn’t have time. But I was going to do it anyway.

My brother had been there for me last year during my breakup. It was by far the shittiest time in my life, and I had not been good company. The least I could do was make sure he didn’t electrocute himself to death.

I made quick work of the trip. I stopped for sandwiches and pulled back into the parking garage an hour later. The white Honda was there. The back right tire was a little low. It made it easy to recognize.

The complex was huge. A mixture of apartments and condos with an enormous parking garage and no assigned spots. The chances seemed unlikely I’d see this car again. I figured the universe was sending me a sign that yes, I did need to apologize to the poor recipient of my brother’s free peen voucher.

I dug in my glove box and found a pen. Then I scrawled a note on the back of my Subway receipt and slipped it under the windshield wiper.





Holly

CHAPTER 3

Iwas on my way to my car when I saw the paper flapping on the passenger side of the windshield. I pulled it off and got into the front seat. It was a note, written on a receipt.

Hi. I was tasked with putting a Valentine’s Day card on my brother’s girlfriend’s car yesterday, and I guess I got the wrong car? I’m sorry. I understand there was a coupon in there that nobody should ever have had to lay eyes on. I hope I didn’t cause any problems with you and your S/O. —The worst wingman ever (Obviously) I laughed dryly. I folded it in half and put it in the cup holder.

The mystery Valentine’s Day card was yesterday. It was still in my glove box, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I was thinking maybe there was a community corkboard for the building somewhere that I could tack it to? It didn’t feel right to throw it away.

I drove home. When I got inside, I shrugged off my sweater and dropped it on the arm of the couch. Then I stared around my apartment wearily.

I didn’t know this place yet. It was full of my stuff, but I hadn’t been home an entire day in the eight weeks I’d lived here. Not since they sent Grandma home on hospice. I hadn’t unpacked, I hadn’t made it my own. It was as foreign to me as the rest of my life at the moment—somewhat familiar but alien too.

I wandered around, watering neglected plants. I sifted through mail, paid a few bills. Folded a pile of laundry. Then I dropped into bed and passed out.