Page 80

My heart gives a worried little leap, and before I know it, I’m texting out a reply.

Me: If this is about the strange noise the coffee machine was making this morning, I didn’t do it.

Deflect, deflect!

Troy: What strange noise?

Me: Exactly.

Troy: How did the lawyer’s office go, by the way?

Me: Well, thank you. Tell you about it when I see you next.

Troy: I’ll be late in the office tonight.

Me: It can wait!

So can I. It’s not like I’m going to pine away or anything.

Troy: So, there’s a charity thing next Saturday. Table has a table and I thought we could do the married thing?

Didn’t we almost do that this morning? I mentally kick myself.

Me: Sounds like a plan.

Got to hold up my part of the bargain.

Troy: We should get our heads together before and shore up our backstory.

Me: Of course.

More tall tales to tell.

“Everything okay?”

I look up and nod, then shoot Chelsea a quick, reassuring smile. “He’s just, you know . . .”

“Obsessed!”

Her comment doesn’t exactly cool the heat in my cheeks. I glance at the screen again.

Troy: How about dinner tomorrow night?

Is this neutral ground or a desire to avoid being alone in the apartment with me? More likely an outing to support his narrative. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But I’m not looking forward to this weekend. Will he be around? Will he expect me not to be?

Me: That would be good.

Troy: I assume you’ve seen Page Six.

Me: I’ve heard about it.

Troy: You look amazing, by the way.

A tiny drop of pleasure bursts inside. Before my overthinking mechanism kicks in. Does he mean that as a compliment, that I look pretty? Or does he mean amazing for the purposes of this narrative? Not sure how to respond, I just don’t, when another text comes through.

Troy: Too much? Maybe if my previous text was an email, I’d sign off with something like live, laugh, toaster bath.

I roll in my lips to prevent my smile. No way he’s embarrassed . . . is he?