Colin: G’night, Olivia.
12
Olivia
“This was so fun, Olivia.”
I smiled and wanted to be struck by lightning. Glenda had called and invited me to lunch to talk about the column, and it’d been really nice for a while. We had delicious pizza at Zio’s and the woman was hilarious, but then she started talking about her kids. Asking about mine. Each time I gave a vague answer and then pulled an ohmigosh, is that Tom Brady over there? type of distraction to lead the conversation away from our offspring.
But it was a screaming reminder that eventually, the whole thing really was going to go down in flames. It was only a matter of time, but instead of focusing on the downfall, I was concentrating on enjoying the ride.
“I know—we should do this again soon.” I finished my Diet Pepsi and pushed the glass up on the table. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Oh, my God—Glenda! I thought it was you!” A girl who looked around my age came over and hugged Glenda. She shot me a nice smile—man, the girl had perfect teeth—and said to Glenda, “How are you?”
The two of them caught up for a second, so I nibbled on the tiny piece of crust left on my plate until they were done. I kind of wished I’d ordered two slices instead of one. After they hugged and the girl walked away, Glenda turned her beaming face to me.
“I’m so sorry, Liv; she used to intern for me and I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Oh, my gosh—no big deal at all.”
Glenda said, “So where were we?”
I honestly couldn’t remember. “I think I was thanking you for taking me to lunch.”
“Well,” she said, sitting back in her chair, “I just wanted to do something nice because we’re all so happy with the column. It’s exactly what we wanted but more. Bob thinks you’ve got a solid number of nonparents reading your articles.”
“Really?” I had no idea who Bob was but I wasn’t about to ask. If “Bob” thought people liked it, I was a happy girl. “That’s so awesome.”
She hugged me when we were leaving the restaurant, and said, “I knew I was right about you, Olivia. Congratulations on your success.”
I couldn’t stop smiling for two blocks as I walked home, blown away by my good fortune. But by the third block, I started to worry. It was just too good to be true—things didn’t work like that for me. Someone was going to find out it was me or that I didn’t have kids; I just knew it. And they would tell Glenda and everything would be ruined.
It was only a matter of time.
My phone buzzed.
Colin: Did you nap on my bed?
I smiled and responded with: It’s only 2:00.
Colin: So?
Me: So only drunks and frat boys nap early. I’m headed home right now, and I’ll probably snuggle into your bed soon after my arrival.
Colin: Where are you now?
Me: Just had lunch with my editor.
Colin: Wow, fancy.
Me: I am, in fact, the fanciest.
Colin: Restaurant?
Me: Zio’s.
Colin: Did you get the New York King?
Me: Why not ask me if I got the vomit-and-poo pizza? Gross.
Colin: You don’t like sausage?
Me: I do not.
Colin: I would’ve pegged you for a meat lover.
Me: Is that some sort of ribald suggestion about penises?
Colin: Now who’s gross, perv? I literally meant you seem like someone who enjoys foods that were once animals.
Me: I don’t like meat mixes that are squirted into casings.
Colin: You really have a way with words, Marshall.
Me: Don’t I know it.
It was weird how comfortable it was, texting with Colin. I didn’t really know how or why, but the back-and-forth was so good that I didn’t miss Mr. Wrong Number for once.
Colin fell easily into his place.
Colin: Well, don’t trash my bed, loser.
Me: Oh, I’m just going to eat spaghetti and meatballs in there, no worries.
Colin: It wouldn’t surprise me if you actually did.
I decided to go straight up to his apartment when I got back. My beautiful pad would be waiting, but I needed to get in a nap before he returned home and I lost my chance. I still had my key, so I let myself in like I still lived there.
The place looked exactly the same, only a little neater. It’d only been a day, but I expected it to feel different already. I stole a Dr Pepper from the fridge and headed for Colin’s bed, but got distracted by the sight of the office.
It was gorgeous.
No clothes lying around, no ugly mattress, and the desk was super organized. Colin had clearly moved his work stuff back into the space, because unlike when I’d occupied the room, there were file folders and Post-it notes all over the glass surface. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about seeing his businesslike handwriting that made me a little . . . impressed.