“Not yet. It’s still on display. It’s a silent auction, so bidswill be coming in for a few more weeks. Then I’ll find out whether it sold.”
“So you could be rich,” James said.
“Or she could make enough to fix the roof.” Eliza reached for her wine. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“I can’t believe Eliza’s arm lard didn’t repel the buyer,” I deadpanned. “You know, that was the first time I’d ever painted a triple chin.”
Eliza threw a cushion at me.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Shit. It was Liam.
Eliza leaned in. “Speak of the devil.”
Liam:Thanks for signing the NDA. We still have a lot to sort out. Could we meet up to make aplan?
“He wants to meet up.” My stomach did a little flip. I immediately thought of the state of my nails.And when did I last pluck my eyebrows?I wasn’t prepared. I wasneverprepared.
“Breathe,” commanded James. “You’ve got this.”
“What shall I say?”
“Just say yes. You’re supposed to be dating him, hon. You’ll have to get used to seeing him,” said James.
Me:Sure. Tomorrow?
There was a pause. No ellipses. Nothing.
“Well. What did he say?” said James.
“Nothing yet. I suggested tomorrow.”
At the cat café, he’d been as smug and self-assured as ever. Swanking in like he owned the place and offering his terms. Honestly. Everything was a deal to him. Although I had to admit, it was quite gratifying to hear him practically beg me to continue thepretend girlfriendcharade.
The ten grand hush money hadn’t hurt, either.
“He’s replying.” I put the phone down on the coffee table so we could all see.
Liam:Great. I’ll come to yours, 10 a.m. okay?
“Fuck, Andy.” James glanced around the living room. “This place is a mess.”
“Are you going to let him in again? Here?” Eliza asked.
“Tell him to meet you at Bump & Grind,” said James, panic on his face. “He can’t see… this.”
I pursed my lips. Damn this guy. He wasn’t evenhere, and he was causing us all anxiety. What was the point ofthe clauseif I was going to cower in case he saw an empty bottle of Prosecco doing time as a bookend?
“Nope,” I said. “This place is fine. I’m not tidying. He insisted on pretending to date a commoner. So let him handle it.”
“Exactly. If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs,” Eliza said, taking a sip of wine.
James and I both stared at her. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Oh, come on. FromSteven Universe. It means stop trying to be perfect.”
“So… I’m a hot dog?”
