“Trey, I amsoconfused right now.”
“Sorry, Dove. It’s all true.”
“What? Wait, what?”
“Yeah. It’s all true. It gets juicier.”
She just stares at me, trying to figure out if I’m screwing with her. I wish I were.
“So…there really is no lie?”
“I mean—no?”
Her lip’s part, caught between laughter and panic.
“The plan is…there is no plan?”
I flash her a crooked grin. “I’ve been bullshitting Phil since I was seventeen. You just smile and wave, while I put on a bullshit clinic for Simon Scowl over there.”
Outside, Phil’s already striding across the gravel, clipboard in hand, ready to interrogate. I squeeze her knee, wink once, and murmur,
“We got this.”
Phil’s already halfway to the truck by the time I step out. His posture saysbusiness meeting, but his face saysintervention.
Great.
“Morning, Philip. Phil-meister.” I plaster on my best grin—the one that’s saved my ass in at least four interviews and three assault charges. “You’re up early.”
He doesn’t even crack a smile. His sunglasses tilt down just enough for me to catch the fury brewing underneath.
“TMZ and E are saying you are married to some fucking nobody? You’ve been ghosting me for forty-eight hours, and your location’s been pinging all over Oregon. You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Call her a nobody again and I will dislocate your fucking jaw.
“Don’t be rude about the love of my life, or I will defend her honor.” A little bit of Britishism seeps out, and it has Phil pause.
“Explain, Baker.” Though for a moment he seems to hesitate, he soon finds his footing.
“When you know, you know.”
“Trey.” The single syllable drops like a gavel.
Sera steps out on her side, sunlight catching her hair like it’s lit from within. Phil’s building rant—stops. His mouth actuallydrops open.
I roundBlack Bettyand slide an arm around Sera’s shoulders, the picture of proud, slightly hungover husband energy.
“Phil, this is Seraphina.” I pause for effect. “My wife.”
Silence. A seagull screams somewhere overhead. The security guard takes a slow step back like he’s trying to get out of the blast zone.
Phil blinks once. Twice.
“You’reserious?”
“Legally speaking, vows, rings, potential tax benefits. It’s a whole thing.”
“Jesus Christ.” He drags a hand down his face, sunglasses nearly toppling off. “You’re telling me you went to Portland and—what—got married?”
