Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?” I ask, keeping my tone gentle. “Or maybe you just never noticed the lies because you’re a decent person who takes people at their word?”
She plucks at the front of her sweater. “I…I don’t know.”
“But you know what Greg looks like?”
Her gaze sharpens, refocusing on mine as she nods. “Of course. No doubt. I met Greg lots of times. Vivian adopted him while she was home for summer break in college. He’s a big fluffy orange tabby with golden eyes, a white chest, and a heart-shaped birthmark on his back paw.”
I frown. “Really? A heart-shaped mark? I’ve never noticed that.”
Caroline looks relieved. “See! Maybe it isn’t Greg. Maybe this is all some big, confusing mistake.”
“Or maybe Greg is just such an asshole, I’ve never gotten close enough to inspect his back paws,” I say, still ninety-eight percent sure my Greg is her Greg. The tabby part certainly tracks. “There’s one way to find out.” I nod over my shoulder. “Up for a quick trip to my place? You can meet Greg, and if we decide to move forward, we can share a cab up to Central Park. I believe you’re supposed to be in wardrobe by seven thirty.”
“I am.” She studies my face another beat before nodding. “Okay, yes, I’ll come meet Greg. But fair warning, if it’s not Greg, I’m calling Vivian to sort this out. There’s no point in living in a state of angry confusion when a simple conversation can sort everything out.”
“Agreed,” I say. “Which is why I came back. Once I realized who you were, I knew we had to have a conversation.”
Caroline cocks her head, seeming to evaluate me anew. “Good. Communication is important.”
“So can I assume you had plans to communicate with me, as well?” I ask. “Eventually? Or were you planning to do something terrible to ruin my show before running away into the mountains of Vermont, never to be seen again?”
Her cheeks flush. “I wasn’t going to do something terrible.” She shrugs, adding in a mumble, “But maybe I thought I could get some dirt on you during filming. And maybe I could leak that dirt to the press and maybe you’d get cancelled. And maybe I would be okay with that since you hurt my cousin terribly.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” I say, deciding not to touch the “hurting” Vivian part. One step at a time. First, I’ll prove to her that Vivian’s a liar. Then, we’ll move on to debunking whatever breakup story my ex whipped up for her family. “And it’s hard for a reality show scumbag to get cancelled. We behind-the-scenes guys get away with a lot of shit, and I haven’t done anything nearly dastardly enough to get cancelled. I’m actually a decent human being. Not great—a little bitter and jaded and prone to seeing the world through a glass darkly—but…decent.”
“I’ve noticed that about comedians,” she says thoughtfully. “Even the wholesome ones seem to see the darkness in the world more than most people.”
“That’s why we make jokes, I guess,” I murmur. “All the exit tension dread.”
A smile explodes across her face and her laugh vibrates through the air, making my heart lift.
Damn…that laugh. If I weren’t half in love with her already, that big, shameless laugh would have me well on my way.
When she catches her breath, she nods, still grinning. “Let’s meet your cat and go from there. No matter what we decide…thanks for what you did. Seeing Chris run out of here crying was a lot easier than feeling like the pathetic hometown girlfriend who got played.”
“You’re the farthest thing from pathetic,” I say, starting toward the door. “Up for the subway or are you a taxi girl?”
“I can handle the subway,” she says, falling in beside me.
I bet she can. She’s a formidable woman.
But can she handle learning her cousin is a pathological liar and still smile for the cameras tonight? That remains to be seen. But I can’t deny I’m looking forward to seeing her face when she realizes Vivian’s dead cat is still very much alive.
That’s going to be a moment I’ll never forget.
Much like that kiss…
seven
. . .
Caroline
On the subway, Leo positions himself between me and a man in dirty flannel pajamas, shielding me from the man’s spit spray as he belts out an off-key version of I Left My Heart in San Francisco. When we exit the car, Leo holds out an arm, clearing a path through the surging crowd, and rests a protective hand at the small of my back on the escalator up to the street.
All in all, he’s the consummate, attentive gentleman.
It’s hard to believe he’s a liar.
But he has to be.
Either that, or this is all some kind of crazy misunderstanding.
But even as my loyal, family-focused brain insists that Vivian would never abandon her cat or concoct such a wild, tragic story, the voice of reason searches for a logical explanation and comes up empty. I mean, Leo and Vivian were living together. With the cat. If Vivian left and the cat stayed, then Leo’s story has to be true.