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Yes, freedom!Standing up, I tell her, “Let me know when you’re ready to go.” Then I follow Tim across the room to a table by the window.
After we order our meals, he asks me, “How much are they paying you to do the show?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” I answer. “I signed some jacked-up contract that practically says I agree to go to prison if I say a word to anyone about anything.”
“The contestants onBlind Lovemake fifteen hundred an episode,” he announces. “Do you make more than that or less?”
I shift my gaze from side to side to indicate I’ll make the same. And while it sounded like an exorbitant amount at the time—and itwillallow me to make some much-needed home repairs—I’m no longer sure it’s enough to parade my social life in front of the free world.If this afternoon was anything to go on, I’m not that great in front of the camera.
Tim looks confused. “So are you going to tell me or not?”
“I did.” I lean in and whisper, “If it were higher, I would have looked up. Lower, I would have looked down.”
He still looks slightly perplexed. “But you looked side …” And then the lightbulb finally goes on. “Oh, I get it. Side-to-side means you get the same amount. Nice. What are you going to do with the money?”
“What every self-made woman would do,” I tell him coyly.
“Go on vacation? Buy some new shoes? Throw a bang-up party at the club?”
I snort in response. “I’m not a member here, so I couldn’t throw a party if I wanted.”
“You could join,” he decides.
I take a fortifying sip from my glass before saying, “Or I could get a new roof before my current one caves in on me.”
He nods his head slowly. “That sounds like a solid plan.”
I caution, “If you decide to buy a house, make sure you get one with at least a decade left on the roof warranty. Better yet, make a new roof a contingency for the sale.” I’m not sure why I’m telling him this. Tim would have no trouble affording a house’s upkeep.
“When I decide to buy, I’ll take you with me. That way you can make sure I make a smart choice.” He winks to let me know he’s kidding. Yet for some reason goosebumps pop up all over my arms. What I wouldn’t have given to have Tim Ferris talk to me like this in high school. My inner teenager practically jumps for joy.
Before I can join her in the present, I remind myself that Tim is a no-go. I’m not going to develop an interest in a man who’s still hung up on his ex-wife.
That would be the stupidest thing I could ever do.
CHAPTER SIX
TIM
Paige Holland is adorable. While I didn’t know her well when we were kids, and I haven’t seen much of her since, I always knew she was pretty. I just never realized how spunky she was.
As I signal the waiter to bring Paige a glass of wine and to preorder dessert for our friends, I confess, “Happy couples are the bane of my existence.”
She looks up with a lopsided grin. “No kidding. It’s not like I’m not happy for Missy and Faith. I’d just like to be happy for myself, too.”
Sounding more than a little bitter, I offer, “There are no guarantees either way.”
“Tell me about your ex-wife,” Paige says while swirling her fork around her pasta.
“Talking about Eva gives me heartburn,” I tell her plainly.
“So, her name is Eva …”
I release my breath rapidly like it’s machine gun fire. “Yes.”
“And what does she do for a living?”
Our waiter arrives with the wine, which gives me a beat toconsider how much I’m going to tell Paige about my ex. I pick up my glass and take a healthy swig before answering, “She was an aspiring actress before we got married.”
