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I took a deep breath before stepping aside to let her in. “Fine.”
Maya leaned against the doorway of the bathroom as I went about brushing my teeth and then took out floss.
“Oh, you use the old-school string stuff?” she said. “I use those Pluckers, the plastic things with a piece of floss attached on the end.”
I looked at her reflection in the mirror as I threaded between my teeth. I’d already taken off my shirt for bed, and I watched as Maya’s eyes dropped down to check out my chest. It made me really fucking uncomfortable. So I did a half-assed job on my teeth and finished up as quickly as possible before turning to face her. “Happy?”
“Do you want to come watch me now?”
I shook my head. “How about you just say your routine is exactly like the one you saw me do, if we’re asked?”
“Oh. Okay. I guess I can do that.”
I motioned behind her, into my bedroom. “Think I can go to bed now?”
Maya stepped aside for me to exit the bathroom, then slowly walked toward the door. As she passed the bed, she ran her finger along the top of the comforter until she reached the end, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at me.
“Maybe we should spend the night together. You know, to pick up any last-minute details. I don’t even know if you’re a snuggler or if you sleep on your stomach.” She looked up at me from under her lashes and bit on her lower lip shyly. “It could be our little secret. I wouldn’t mention it to Billie or anything.”
I clenched my jaw so hard, I was surprised I didn’t crack a pearly white. “Get the fuck out of my room.”
Maya blinked a few times. I’m guessing not too many men declined an offer for her to join them in bed. She had the balls to pout. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”
I pointed to the door. “Rude would be telling you to get the fuck out of my apartment and go sleep on the street. Which I’m about two seconds away from doing if you don’t get out of my bedroom right now.”
She huffed and stomped toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.
***
The following morning, Maya and I barely said two sentences to each other while we took the train downtown to the interview. I was a nervous wreck and had reached a point that I jumped if a car so much as honked its horn. The only thing that was going to settle my nerves was having today finally over with. My lawyer, Adam, met us out front of the federal building, and we talked for a few minutes before going inside together. He’d told us the questioning could last up to eight hours long and be conducted separately, or it could be less than an hour with us being interrogated together in one room. So I had no idea what to expect, until Officer Weber walked in.
“Mrs. Lennon can wait here,” he said with no preamble. “The video equipment is set up down the hall. I’d like to meet with Mr. Lennon first.”
Adam nodded and spoke to Maya. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re done.”
“Okay.”
Maya stepped to me and opened her arms for a hug. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Through my peripheral vision I caught the investigator watching, so I had no choice but to follow through with the embrace she offered. Maya kissed my cheek before I could pull away and whispered loud enough so everyone could hear. “Love you.”
I nodded and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Facing the firing squad down the hall was more enticing than being in Maya’s arms.
Again, the investigator wasted no time jumping in. As soon as he’d turned the recording equipment on, he fired off the first question, asking about the type of birth control Maya used. Thanks to the chat I hadn’t even wanted to have last night, I knew the answer. The subsequent ten or so questions were all focused on things we’d either practiced or learned about each other over the last two weeks of living together. He asked how Maya took her coffee and where she put her dirty laundry. Knowing the answers went a long way toward settling my nerves, and it wasn’t lost on me that I probably wouldn’t have known half of them if she hadn’t forced me to let her move in. Everything seemed to be going well, and I started to feel like maybe I actually did know Maya a little bit. Until the first question came that stumped me.
“How many times a week do you and Mrs. Lennon go out to dinner?”
“Umm… Not too often.”
Investigator Weber pursed his lips. “I need an actual answer—five times, zero, three?”
