“Is it me, or is your voice familiar?” Lily asked her guest, sounding suspicious and peeved. She certainly didn’t seem shy behind that microphone.
“No,” the guy answered. “We’ve never met.”
“He answered that a little too fast,” one of her cohosts said in a northern accent.
“I did not. Look, did you bring me on to interrogate me, or can we talk about putting this daft competitiveness to rest?”
“Daft?” a female with an American accent said. “I knew it! I thought I could hear a British accent coming through. He’s putting on a fake American accent!”
“Aha!” Lily said, like that meant something.
I shared a look with Beth, and her lips trembled with laughter.
“I am not,” the bloke doubled down on the accent.
“Oh, really? Where in America are you from?”
“California.”
“Where?”
“Santa Barbara.”
“How long did you live there?”
“Jesus, are we really doing this?”
“Definitely a fake accent,” the American girl insisted. “So fake! He’s a fake.”
“I’m not listening to this childish rubbish.”
“Rubbish? Daft? Only the Brits say rubbish and daft.”
“Uh, guys, he hung up.”
“See? Totally faking it!”
“Okay, can we lower the volume, please?” Lily sighed, the sound hitting off her mic. “Well, there you have it, folks. Elijah fromPotterrow Blokesis not only a thief, he’s a coward and maybe even an impostor.”
Beth switched off the show. “That wasn’t the best example of an episode. I need to talk to her. This rivalry with these guys is throwing the podcast off course, and they have ad companies to answer to. Their growth has been so exponential, I was even considering offering to take them on as a client, but they have to cut this shit out. I’ll talk to her,” she repeated.
“You have your own stuff to deal with,” I reminded her. “What did I just say? Not everything is your responsibility. I’m sure your cousin can handle it.”
She was silent for a few seconds. “If you’re worried about my anxiety, I’m getting better. Talking it out with you helped, and I’m planning to talk to my parents soon.”
“Good.” I reached out to thread my fingers through hers. “But what about the panic attacks? Amanda?” I asked because she’d woken up from a nightmare a week ago and thankfully, her jerking awake woke me. This time instead of running off to be alone, she came into my arms and let me hold her through it.
“Maybe talking to my parents is the last piece of the puzzle. Maybe I’ll stop dreaming about her once I do.”
“And if you don’t?”
Beth sighed heavily. “I’ll think about talking to someone. I promise.”
I tightened my grip on her hand. “Good. And you know I’m always here.”
“I know.” She raised our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles.
Time to compartmentalize.
