Page 28 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

It had made me feel my own horror and fear. Horror that she didn’t want our relationship becoming anything more, and fear that it was going to make me lose her in my life.

So, I did as anyone who was secretly in love with their best friend would do, and I acted like I hadn’t seen the look on her face as I said, “I was thinking of asking Paige from my organizational communication class, but since you and I are best friends, I thought I should ask you first. You know, in case you’re looking for an excuse to get all dressed up to go somewhere fancy.”

The look of relief on her face had been immediate and palpable. Then she’d said, “Miles, don’t ever let me stop you from going on dates! Ask Paige. I’m sure she’d love to go.”

That was the moment my “Player” persona was born.

Not too long after, I was recruited into the Clandestine Services Agency—having family members working for the CSA doesn’t actually increase your chances of becoming an intelligence operative—and it has helped me a lot in my job.

I don’t pull out the persona too often around Reese. Only when I see the fear that I might want more from our relationship flicker in her eyes. Then I mention a date I went on. Usually, one that only counted as a date if you ignored the surveillance van, the encrypted comms in my ear, and the fact that I spent half the evening trying to get close enough to clone someone’s phone. Like wooing a woman suspected of brokering illegal weapons sales at a black-tie gala in Vienna.

(Obviously, I leave out the criminal part. And Vienna, if it’s classified.) It always makes the fear in Reese’s eyes disappear.

Every once in a while, I even use it to test the waters. They haven’t changed. Reese’s reaction to the Sidewalk Sisters thinking we’re married tells me that much.

“But you’ve never…?” Marge says, gesturing between Reese and me.

“No,” Reese says with a little too much force. “No.”

Which, honestly, is probably for the best. No way am I telling Reese I love her while my life depends on secrets I can’t share. If she ever learns what I really do, she’ll feel manipulated. Betrayed. And honestly, she’d have every right to. Relationships are built on trust. My career is built on making people believe things that aren’t true.

Barbara opens the binder, licks her thumb, and starts flipping through pages. She stops on one, pulls a pen from her purse, writes something down, and says, “Not romantically involved. Noted.” Then she closes the binder.

Loving Reese has always felt like standing outside the safest house I know with a match in my hand. I’m not about to light it.

CHAPTER 7

TINY THINGS

REESE

Reese: Just pulled into Buy, Buy Baby.

Miles: Godspeed.

Reese: If I don’t make it out, tell people I walked into their board book section and died trying to decide if they needed to be sorted alphabetically or by shape and size.

Miles: You say that like you wouldn’t enjoy it.

Igrin as I slide my phone into my purse, leave my Cipher Springs Middle School lanyard in my car, and head inside. He knows me entirely too well.

The automatic doors whoosh open, carrying with them that unmistakable baby-store smell of new plastic, baby powder, and expensive dreams. Charlie is already inside, bouncing on the balls of her feet, holding a clipboard and a pastel pink folder, radiating enough excitement to power the store’s lighting. She’s been in charge of the baby shower for her brother, Jace, and his wife Mackenzie for all of three days, and she already has a color-coded planning system that I suspect includes tabs, sub-tabs, and emergency tabs.

I give her a quick hug, then she says, “Okay, so we’re helping Mackenzie decide on things to finish her registry, and while we’re shopping, we’ll be finalizing the shower. Theme, food, games, favors, decorations, who’s bringing what—the whole thing.”

“I heard ‘shopping,’” Mackenzie’s best friend, Livi, says as she joins us. “The rest of those words felt less important.”

Zoe, who is dating Miles’s twin, Ledger, comes next, and finally Mackenzie. We all drift around her like planets settling into orbit around the very pregnant center of this little solar system. Baby Lancaster is about four weeks from making her appearance, and Mackenzie somehow looks both adorable and exhausted at the same time.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

She rests a hand on her stomach and smiles. “Like this child has recently discovered elbows.”

“I bet she’ll be a kickboxer,” Zoe says.

“She’s sure been practicing for it. Yesterday, one of her feet managed to find a rib.”

“Okay,” Livi says, clapping her hands together once. “Should we get this party started?”