Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Kathy, Samuel is asking about barbecue sauce.”
“It’s out there.”
Diane holds up her hands in surrender. “That’s what I told him, but he swears you didn’t bring it out yet.”
Kathy murmurs something under her tone that sounds suspiciously close to I’m going to murder my husband right before she heads out the back door. Diane catches my eyes and we exchange a knowing smile.
“They’ve been married for twelve years,” Diane says, opening the refrigerator wide enough to pull out a massive bowl of potato salad.
“Wow, that’s quite the achievement. They must have been young when they got married.”
“Twenty-two,” she confirms, placing the bowl on the island and rooting around in the drawers for something. “I told Samuel he needed to wait. They’d barely finished college—what did they know about marriage?”
I prop my elbows on the island just as she finds what she’s looking for: paprika.
“I suppose they didn’t listen?”
She laughs as she sprinkles the spice on the top of the dish. My mouth salivates. “My kids rarely do.”
My stomach churns as I realize how quickly this charade is going to crumble. I didn’t expect Adam’s family to be so open and welcoming. Standing across from Adam’s mom while she opens up to me about her children cuts me to my core. She’s so nice, and I’m standing in her son’s kitchen lying to her.
“What do you do for work, Madeleine?”
“I’m a real estate agent.”
She nods, seemingly impressed, and I don’t rush to correct her. If a tree falls in a forest and has only sold one house, it’s still a tree, right?
“I’m a kindergarten teacher down at Hamilton elementary,” she says with a proud smile.
“Oh! I must have gone before your time. I would have remembered you.”
“No. I moved down here after Kathy and Samuel got married.”
“From Chicago?”
She nods. “So how long have you and Adam been seeing each other?”
“Oh, um…” I stare out the back window and spot Mouse sporting a brand new hot pink headband. The girls are dressing him up, and he’s happy to let them as long as they keep the scratches flowing.
“Must not be that long,” she supplies for me.
I laugh and it sounds tight and awkward even to me. “No, not long.”
“Has he taken you out on dates, or is that too formal these days? When Samuel and Kathy were first dating, they used to just go hang out with friends and study. How’s that for romance?”
I mentally scroll through the activities Adam and I have done together: a vet visit, puppy training, a random run-in at the grocery store. None of them can be twisted into something romantic.
“We haven’t done any serious dates,” I reply, confident I’m not really telling a lie. “Just little things.”
She hums, and I finally work up the courage to glance up her way. She’s eyeing me with suspicion; of course she is. She can probably sniff a lie from a mile away after spending all day, every day with kindergarteners.
“Adam was hesitant about bringing you today,” she continues. “I think he was worried we’d scare you off.”
I bark out a laugh before I can help myself. This, of course, only makes her more suspicious, but I’m quick to cover my tracks. “No, it’s not that. He probably just didn’t want to introduce me to his family yet. Y’know, some women might read too much into it.”
She tilts her head, her potato salad long forgotten. I’m her new project. “Something tells me you aren’t one of those women.”
I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
“Something also tells me you and Adam aren’t dating.”
She says it just like that, like she’s commenting on the color of the sky.
I feign utter shock. “What? Of course we are!”
She smiles, proud to have found her mark. “No. I was pestering Adam about moving on the other day and he thought he’d get one over on me if he brought someone to the barbecue.”
“No. No, umm…he and I—we have been seeing each other.” I’m a stammering mess and it’s all Adam’s fault. He dropped this mission on me this morning. I had no time to prepare, no time to wrap my head around my character. What are her motives? Her likes? Dislikes? I’m supposed to be playing his leading lady, and he’ll probably renege on the agreement if I’m not convincing.
“It’s all right, I won’t let him know that I know.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, willing the ground to open up at my feet. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t feel comfortable with the plan, but he didn’t give me much choice.”
At that, she seems alarmed. “Did he threaten you?”
“No! No. He actually, um, agreed to be one of my clients at the agency if I pretended to be his girlfriend today.”
His mom laughs—cracks up, in fact. She has to press her hand to her chest and I swear she’s about to keel over from amusement. “Oh this is too good. Too good.”