Page 2 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

“Hey,” he rubs his forehead. “Watch what you’re doing.”

The driver turns to glare at him. “Get. Out.”

Mark’s hand—and jaw—drop. “What did you say?”

“I told you, young man, to get the hell out of my car.”

“But this isn’t my spot.”

A quick glance out the window shows that’s right. We’re near a shopping mall that has been closed for hours.

“It is now.”

Mark stares at the driver, seemingly waiting for the older gentleman to turn around and restart the car. But he doesn’t.

With one more huff, and a muttered “unbelievable,” Mark unsnaps his seatbelt, throws open the door and gets out.

“We’ll always have the supply closet next to the banquet hall,” I call out after him.

The door slams shut. All of my vibrato, all of my badass energy seems to have gone out the door with him.

In its place, I’m left alone in the back of a car. With a driver kind enough to turn up the volume on the radio so I can cry without drawing more attention to myself. At a red light, he silently hands me a box of tissues.

I hate that I’m crying. About Mark. About the job. About losing my cool over both. But the tears keep coming and they don’t stop coming until the driver pulls up in front of my apartment building.

He turns to me then, giving me the full force of his wrinkled smile and wise eyes. “You’re better than that man and those idiots you work with.”

My bottom lip quivers. “Thank you.”

“I hope you have someone you can talk to tonight.”

I open my mouth to assure him I do, but clamp it shut just as quickly. The truth is… I don’t think I do. Not tonight.

My best friend is on her honeymoon. I don’t want to bother her with my bullshit right now. Especially because there’s a fifty-fifty chance I reach her pre- or post-coital.

The rest of our friends are at a charity bachelor auction I wish I’d gone to instead of the stupid office party.

I can’t call my work bestie. As much as I love her, I don’t need this getting around the office just yet. Monday morning is soon enough.

My brother, Patrick, isn’t going to be very sympathetic. Assuming he even picks up the phone.

Even my parents are gone. They finally took that Mediterranean Cruise they’ve been talking about since before I could write my name. Not only do I not know the time wherever they are, but I do know they’re too cheap to purchase an international cell plan. I also have my doubts about whether or not they’ve figured out how to get on the ship’s WiFi.

So, no. I don’t think there’s anyone I can talk to tonight. And that’s… sad. Really, really sad.

This is why every woman needs a cat. I swear, I’m adopting one ASAP.

But, instead of unloading this on the poor unsuspecting driver who has really already gone above and beyond, I force a smile on my face and nod.

“I’ll be just fine.” I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat. “Thank you. For everything. I promise, you’re getting five stars from me.”

He chuckles lightly and accepts the cash I hand him. I know you’re supposed to tip through the app—and I will. But this man went above and beyond the call of duty tonight. He deserves every penny I have.

With a few parting words of gratitude, I get out of the car and blindly make my way up to my apartment. Kicking off my heels, I sink onto my couch. Gripping my phone, because I desperately want to talk to someone.

But who?

I unlock my phone anyway.