Page 80 of Mr. Perfect

“Yeah, I talked to him last week after I came home from Vegas. I saw Andrew Manco and for some reason Mac thought you were with Andrew that night.”

“Oh, yeah.” I laugh. “It was a mix up. Do you want me to take a message?”

“Yeah, just tell him to give Mr. Corporate a call when he has a chance.”

“Mr. Corporate?” I ask.

“Mr. Perfect will know what I’m talking about. Thanks a bunch, sweetheart. Later.”

And then the call drops. I just stare at it for a moment.

Mr. Romantic? Mr. Corporate? Mr. Perfect? What the hell is up with these names?

I stand there for a moment. Completely still.

Because I’m having an idea. A very bad idea, but an idea nonetheless.

I have his phone.

I bet I could find out a bunch of stuff about him if I just took a little peek inside….

No, Ellie. That voice in my head is very strong.

But then there’s another voice. One that says, He looked at all those messages you sent Heath.

He did do that, didn’t he? I’m almost obligated to take a peek. After all, it was totally unfair that he got to snoop around my private life. Read all those personal thoughts. And even though we spent the whole weekend together, I keep thinking that he really didn’t tell me much about himself. Sure, that scavenger hunt gave me some insight. But a lot of it was very esoteric, wasn’t it? Very philosophical and vague. Like Law Number 46. Never appear too perfect. What the hell is that about?

And Mr. Romantic, whoever he is, just called Mac Mr. Perfect.

I look over my shoulder, out of habit. Because I am going to look. Just at the contacts. See if there’s any more hints to this Mr. Perfect stuff. It sounds familiar to me for some reason. Maybe Mac mentioned it before? Did he ever say Mr. Romantic to me? No, I don’t think so.

My fingers tab the screen to life and I’m pressing the little contacts icon before I can stop.

They all pop up and I start scrolling down to the M’s. But Heath’s name catches my eye.

Heath. Did they talk about me?

I go to the messages and stop breathing.

Yes. Yes, they did. My name is right there in the last one Mac sent.

Mr. Perfect: If you’re not banging Ellie Hatcher, then I’ll give it a try. She looks totally corruptible.

It’s dated the very first day we met. That day when he humiliated me in the executive conference room.

I have to walk back over to the desk and take a seat because my legs suddenly feel very weak. My stomach has that hollow feeling I sometimes get. Like a punch to the gut. And my heart.

Put it away, Ellie. There are things you don’t need to know.

It’s true. I even agree. But then there are things you do need to know. And this is one of them. So I scroll up to the very first message that day.

Mr. Perfect: What the fuck is going on with these messages from Ellie? First she’s asking you to fuck her and then she’s talking this delusional bullshit about puppies and dream houses.

Heath: What the hell are you talking about? Dream houses? I fucked Ellie a few times, but that was only because she wanted it. Stay away from her though, she’s crazy.

Mr. Perfect: Yeah, no shit. She’s sending you Pinterest boards filled with what your future kids would look like.

Heath: What? I don’t know what to say to that. Never saw that shit.