Who is he?
He was an asshole.
He was flaky.
And he was—unfortunately, officially, andveryinconveniently—my husband.
He watched me closely. I swear, he lived for moments like these. Moments where I tangled myself up in my own lies and he got to sit back and watch.
I cleared my throat, trying to buy myself a few seconds to think. “He’s just a?—”
I paused.
Friend?
No.
Marco wasn’t exactly the friendly type.
Colleague?
Even worse.
I didn’t want Lucia repeating that to Isabel, because she’d ask questions I really wasn’t ready to answer.
Finally, I settled on the weakest possible option. “He’s just a guy.”
Lucia narrowed her eyes at me, utterly unimpressed. “A guy?”
“Yes.” I nodded quickly, hoping my confidence would magically make my lame answer believable. “A guy friend.”
Marco made a quiet noise from across the kitchen—something between a cough and a laugh—and I deliberately ignored him, though I mentally added another point to the Marco-is-an-asshole tally I’d been keeping.
Lucia, unfortunately, wasn’t letting me off the hook so easily. She tilted her head, suspicious. “Since when doyouhave friends?”
Ouch.Okay, that was fair, but also rude, and maybe just a tiny bit true. Still. “Since always,” I said defensively, crossing my arms. “I have lots of friends.”
Lucia’s face said she wasn’t convinced, which was honestly a little insulting. Was it really that hard to believe I had friends?
“Then why haven’t I met him before?” she pressed.
God, was I glad she didn’t remember him from that night on the subway. Explaining that would take more brainpower than I currently possessed.
“Because,” I said, thinking quickly, “he’s not that kind of friend. He’s a ...uh... grown-up friend.”
Lucia squinted again, glancing toward Marco with the kind of scrutiny usually reserved for cartoon villains. Marco hadn’tmoved. He was still leaning casually, enjoying this way too much.
Finally, Lucia turned back to me and whispered loudly, like she was letting me in on a serious secret, “He looks mean.”
Marco raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “I’m right here, you know.”
Lucia gasped, eyes widening dramatically. “He heard me?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “He has ears.”
“Big ones,” she whispered.
“Still here,” Marco said.
