Walk of Shame (Love Unexpectedly 4)

“Not that much better. Count me out until next week.”

“Ugh, that sucks. We miss you. Did you hear about Brody and his baby mama?”

“Yup.”

“Ugh, such a pig. You’re lucky you hooked up with one of the nice ones.”

There it is.

I take a slurpy sip of my soup. “Hon, you of all people know not to believe what you read in the tabloids.”

There’s a pause. A hopeful pause, I’m guessing. “Really? But you and Andrew were kissing.”

“That was…” I wave my spoon, trying to think of the right word, and failing. “I’d had too much to drink, and he was annoying me. I was trying to prove a point, he was trying to prove a point—”

“What point, how many molars you have?” she asks teasingly.

“It was more of a battle of wills. And if anyone asks, I totally won. But the point is, we’re not together.”

Another pause. “Okay. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved. I thought maybe you guys were in, like, a secret relationship, and I’d been hitting on him that night and you were mad.”

“Not mad,” I say, taking another spoonful of soup and wishing that this conversation could be over already.

“And you don’t like him?”

I feel a little twinge. If it were Marley, I might tell her the truth: that I like him too much. But though I consider Hailey a good friend, we’re not quite on the spill-your-darkest-secrets level, so instead I deflect.

“Look. You gave him your phone number, right? Has he ever used it? Texted, called, whatever?”

“Well…yeah, he texted, but—”

My heart sinks hard. Like, boulder-in-the-ocean hard. “See?” I say brightly, wincing at how fake I sound. “There you go. He’s never texted me. Never called me.”

She doesn’t pick up on the false brightness of my voice the way Marley would—doesn’t seem to realize that my soul is dying a little.

“Really?” Hailey sounds genuinely surprised. “There’s really nothing there? So if I ask him to be my date at that literacy fundraiser next week…?”

“Go for it,” I say, making a mental note to change my RSVP on that particular fundraiser to hell no.

“Okay, well…thanks, I guess. I mean, it’s a little weird to ask out the guy who was just making out with my friend, but—”

“Hailey,” I interrupt, “I’ve got another call coming in. But seriously, if you like Andrew, I think you guys would be good together.”

The crappy thing is, it’s sort of true. Of the people in my friend group, Hailey’s the most subdued. She parties with the rest of us, but she’s more eager than the rest of us to give up those parties for a life of white wine, early nights, and parent-teacher conferences at the ritziest prep school. She’s friendly, but also a tiny bit shy compared to the rest of us. Pretty, but classy. Funny, but not terribly snarky.

There’s nothing ridiculous about her.

In other words, she’s the dream woman for Andrew Mulroney, Esquire.

“Okay, talk soon!” Hailey says.

I chirp goodbye, and then because I really do have another call coming in…

“Hi, Mom.”

“There you are,” my mother says on the other end of the phone, her tone clearly exasperated. “You’ve been avoiding my calls for two days.”

“I’ve been avoiding everyone’s calls. I’ve had the flu.”