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“That’s worth celebrating.” Peter sounds genuine. “Double the normal tip.”
“Really? Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He taps on the keypad and then holds the credit card out to me.
I stare at it in disbelief.
“Take it. It came in the mail the other day, and I forgot to give it to you after I activated it.”
The man is giving me a credit card? This is too good to be true. I’m already reaping the benefits of looking just like Angelina London.
I put the card in my purse and hope he doesn’t notice that it’s a cheap knockoff brand. Then I thank him. Hopefully that’s something his wife would do. I don’t know how courteous they are together. I don’t knowanythingabout how they interact.
I’m in over my head. If he wants to sit with me, he’ll figure out the ruse and send me away after taking back the bank card. I’ll have to give him an excuse as to why I have to leave right away. That’s the only chance I have to make this work.
“Come sit with me.” He rubs my shoulders, and it feels amazing.
“Okay,” my mouth says without my permission.
“Great.” He leads me to his table and holds a chair for me.
Is this dude for real? Guys don’t really do these things in real life. Do they? One thing is for sure, if Peter is always like this, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I replace his wife. She’s outta here. It’s my turn at the good life.
He leans back in his chair and takes me in. “There’s something different about you.”
Crap. I knew this was too good to be true. I’ve already blown my cover.
“You seem happier.” Peter sips from his cup. “I’m glad to see you’re not shying away from whipped cream this time. Like I always tell you, you should enjoy life a little more.”
I’m glad I’m sitting, because I’m pretty sure my knees just turned to rubber. He notices that I’m different, but he doesn’t suspect anything. I force a smile. “It’s about time I took your advice, and I’m glad I did.”
“Me too. Happiness looks good on you.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I take a gulp of my latte.
He squeezes my upper thigh.
I choke on the drink. It sprays onto the table, barely missing his laptop case. I’d apologize—that’s the polite thing to do, right?—but I can’t stop coughing. The hot liquid is still in the wrong pipe, and I can’t get it out. My eyes water, and I sound like a sick seal.
People are staring.
This is getting off to a fantastic start.
Peter whacks my back. You’d think someone with a “Dr.” before his name would know that doesn’t actually do anything. Even I know that, and I dropped out of high school and spent most of last year in rehab.
Finally, I clear the tube and breathe normally again. A few people are still glancing my way, but most people have stopped.
“Are you okay?” Peter looks at me with genuine concern in his eyes. Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before. Except he thinks he’s looking at Angelina, not me.
“Yeah, fine. I don’t know what happened.” I pick up my drink and take a small sip, ready for anything now.
But he doesn’t touch me. He’s probably going to ask for the credit card back.
He ends the long stretch of silence by patting my hand and saying, “Why don’t you go buy yourself something nice? You deserve it.”
“I do? I mean, thanks.”
“Of course you do. You do so much for all of us.” He brushes his lips across mine. “I have to get to the hospital. Are you going to be all right?”
