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I exhaled, glad I’d decompressed with Thea rather than stewing under the mistaken idea that Andy had been cheating on me. Well, maybe not cheating, since we’d never actually discussed what we’d turned our fake marriage into, but I’d remedy that as soon as he was back in town.
“I’m sorry I missed her, too. What’s a social media run? I didn’t realize you two were meeting in Chicago.”
“She does these long nights out to stock up on pictures to post throughout the week. I don’t get it, but Payton says it makes her life look more fun than it actually is. And, yeah, I didn’t know she’d be here either. She just showed up at my door. Her dad must have mentioned I was in town. But, hey, guess what I did today?”
I grinned, glad to turn the conversation away from Payton and Chicago. “Let me guess: you ordered a steak?”
“Nope, I booked my flight home. Well, technically, my assistant did, but just the same. Five more days.”
I smiled, relaxing even as the cold winter wind whipped my face as I paced outside the diner. “You, me, and Trashcan. Together again.”
“So,” Andy said, a smile in his voice. “He’s a Trashcan?”
“He’s a Trashcan.”
“I love you, Nora.” His voice barely lifted above a whisper. The same thrill that ran down my back when he told me the first time raced through me. “I’ll let you get back to dinner.”
CHAPTER27
Nora
Six long days later,I woke up to warm lips on my forehead.
“I’m taking Trashcan for a run,” Andy whispered. “Want me to stop for coffee on the way back?”
I nodded, brushing back the hair tangled over my face. I took a moment to appreciate how unbelievably good Andy looked first thing in the morning: his bright blue eyes, his shirt just a tad too tight across his chest, and his hair brushed back. I would have pulled him back into bed if I hadn’t been so exhausted from the night before. But in a heartbeat, he was off with the dog, and I stayed cozied up with my dreams, none of them quite as good as reality.
I pulled myself out of bed a short time later, wandering around the house to find something to occupy me while I waited for him to return. I’d cleaned for Andy’s arrival, but he must have done the dishes before he left because I didn’t find any remnants of our late-night meal besides two tumblers on the coffee table. Putting those in the empty dishwasher, I paused in front of my textbooks on the dining room table. I shook my head, not wanting to ruin my day with studying, even if I had the time.
Andy’s suitcase still sat by the door and, lacking anything else to keep me busy, I picked up the bag and carried it upstairs to the bedroom. Placing it on the bed, I unzipped the bag, marveling at his system. All the clean clothes in a labeled bag, all the dirty clothes on the separate side, also labeled. I set aside his toiletry bag and clean clothes, then took the bag of dirty clothes over to the three-section hamper I found in one of the five unused bedrooms.
Despite the clear labeling on the hamper for whites, darks, and reds, I shoved all my colors in the dark section and used the section designated reds for clothes that needed dry cleaning. Up until I moved in with Andy, I’d been throwing my dry clean only clothes in the washer on the gentle setting and hoping for the best. But, apparently, some people sent clothing to a dry cleaner, and Andy was one of those people. I shoved his dress socks into the darks and his slacks and shirts into reds.
As I turned to leave, something caught my eye.
I pulled a shirt back out of the hamper, holding it up by the shoulders and taking in the stain on the collar. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. An oval stain in a vibrant red was smudged on the rim of the collar. Someone’s bottom lip. Not mine, certainly. On the rare occasions I wore makeup, I stuck to light corals and muted pinks—never vivid red.
I turned the shirt over, finding another smudge on the bottom hem, and closed my eyes. My stomach dropped as I fumbled for my phone, pulling up Payton’s picture.
Bright red lips.
Sure, it was impossible to tell if the color was an exact match, but based on the embroidery on the upper pocket, it was the same shirt Andy wore that night. And just past midnight, that shirt was still clean.
The door banged open downstairs, startling me. I stuffed the shirt into the hamper, as if I had been the one to bring home a piece of clothing with some other girl’s lipstick all over it. I closed the cover just as Andy bounded into the room, coffee in hand and Trashcan in tow.
“Hey, I thought you might still be sleeping?”
I forced a smile, hoping he’d ignore my flushed face as just waking up rather than…what? Putting away his clothes and finding suspicious makeup stains all over them?
“Nope. I’m up. Just starting a load of laundry. I grabbed your bag.” I strangled the sentence out, searching his face for any dawning horror, but saw…nothing.
“Thanks.” He set the coffee on the dresser and kissed my cheek. “I’m going to hop in the shower real quick. Meet you downstairs?”
I nodded dumbly. He sifted through his dresser for a change of clothes and padded into the bathroom, nonplussed.
As soon as the door to the bathroom closed, I pulled out the shirt, taking a few quick pictures and sending them to Thea.
THEA
