Worst Wingman Ever (The Improbable Meet-Cute collection)

Holly

CHAPTER 1

There was an envelope taped to my windshield.

I immediately clicked on the door locks.

It was 3:00 p.m., and I was in the middle of my shift. I had to do a quick pharmacy run, and I figured now was the best time. Grandma’s bridge club was visiting, and the apartment was bursting at the seams. I didn’t like to leave my patient for long, even when she had guests, so I’d jogged to the car in a hurry and hadn’t noticed the card under the wiper until I was in the front seat.

I’d seen waaay too many cautionary videos about this exact situation: a kidnapper puts something on your car, you pause to look at it, and he grabs you while you’re distracted and takes you to be murdered. I was not getting unalived on Valentine’s Day, on principle. Some girl would be on YouTube three years from now, doing her makeup while she covered the chilling Valentine’s Day death of a local single Burbank nurse, who died because she didn’t have a boyfriend to walk her to her car. No, thank you. Kill me tomorrow.

I called my sister, Jillian, while I backed out of the space. She answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you stay on the phone with me for a bit?” I caught a glimpse of a red heart sticker on the back of the envelope. “Someone put something creepy on my car.”

“Creepy how?”

“A card with hearts on it.”

“Oooohhh what if it’s from a secret admirer?”

I scoffed. “It’s not. Trust me.”

“No, seriously. What if—” She gasped. “What if it’s from Jeb?”

“I think I prefer the murderer.”

Jeb was my ex. We dated for two years and broke up three months ago after I found out that he’d been cheating for most of the relationship when I saw his picture in a local Are We Dating The Same Guy Facebook group. And yes. We’d alllll been dating the same guy.

“Want me to come meet you with a shank?” she asked.

“No. I’m running to the store. I’ll just pull up somewhere public and see what it is.”

I drove to the pharmacy, checking my rearview the whole way. I parked a few spots down, in front of the Kintsugi Day Spa. I was pretty sure I wasn’t being followed, but I still made quick work of snatching the card and jumping back into safety the second I got it.

It was a white envelope with a metallic-red heart sticker on the seal. I opened it up. A Scooby-Doo Valentine’s Day card that said “I Ruv You” on the front. The message inside was handwritten in black ink.

Andrea, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Have a great day at work. I love you, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Then there was a coupon, redeemable for “One Dicking Down” on the date and time of your choosing. No expiration.

I rolled my eyes and slid it back in the envelope.

“Well?” Jillian asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a love letter. And it’s not for me. Someone must have gotten the wrong car.”

“Awwww. That’s sweet. Kind of weird he doesn’t know what his girlfriend’s car looks like, though.”

I shoved it in the glove box. “So what did you do today?”

“I dodged suitors.”

“Ha.”

“I’m serious. I felt like a ninja. That guy who owns the wakeboard place brought me doughnuts, and I had to do the whole duck-and-roll thing behind the counter. I kinda hurt my shoulder. Can you look at it?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

My sister was an adorable ADHD bundle of chaos. She was delicately pretty, thrifted every single thing she wore, always had a different hair color, and never committed to anyone, which seemed to make the male frenzy over her worse.

“How’s Grandma today?” she asked.

“The same. In good spirits.”

“And you?”

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t really. I hadn’t been fine in a while.

I put my head in my hand and leaned against the window.

I was always really good at compartmentalizing what I did for a living. I think that was part of my gift. I had the compassion that the duties required, but also the ability to leave it behind the moment I stepped out the door.

Now when I left my assignment, I got in my car and cried. Because my assignment was to watch my grandmother die.

There was no way I wasn’t taking the job. I was a hospice nurse, the obvious choice. And it was an honor to be the one providing the bulk of her care. But it was so draining. I’d gone from a traumatic, unexpected breakup to a new city in a new apartment that still felt like a hotel to me, then right into Grandma’s diagnosis. And the responsibilities of it being family made it harder.

I was the one updating the CaringBridge page so the out-of-state cousins could follow her end-of-life journey. I was also planning a funeral with Mom. I didn’t get days off, and the never-ending caretaking was wearing me down. But I didn’t want days off, I wanted to be with Grandma. What I wanted was more time.

Time is such a precious thing. How you spend it, how you waste it. And it becomes even more valuable as the hourglass runs out, because you will never get more of it. I see it every day. The panic as the last grains of sand fall.

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.