“Just get through the session tomorrow, blame everything on Wilder to save face, and then move on, simple as that. When your boss asks why things didn’t work out, you can push all blame to the husband. You look good, and then you can go and live your life.”
I nod, mulling that over. “You know, that’s not a terrible plan.”
“Precisely, and that’s why you have us as friends.”
I blow out a steady breath. “Yeah, this might work.” I nervously laugh. “For a second there, I thought I was going to have to FaceTime Matt into the counseling session.”
Denise shakes her head. “Not an option. We don’t associate with the devil anymore.”
I chuckle. “No…no, we don’t.”
Chapter Three
WILDER
“Binoculars, binoculars, where art thou, binoc—aha, there you are. You motherfucker, diagonal and backward, should have known.”
I highlight the wordbinocularsin my word search with a green Sharpie highlighter. They have a clear window to look through while you’re highlighting, making them the best on the market at the moment. I pick up my Diet Coke with lime, take a sip, and then start looking for the wordcravat.
Tonight’s word search theme—things you wear around your neck.
The night took a turn for the worse when I had to try to findnoose. I thought it was vastly inappropriate, but this isn’t my normal word search brand. It’s one Mika found for me when he was visiting his friends upstate. He liked that there was a swear-word puzzle. I’m not a prude by any means—some might say I have a dirtier mouth than others—but there’s a time and fucking place for it, and it’s not in a word search puzzle.
I readjust my stretched-out legs, getting more comfortable, just as my phone beeps next to me. I glance at the screen, and when I see Mika’s name pop up, I pick it up.
Mika: Scottie needs a fake husband for a therapy session tomorrow. You in?
Well, that’s random.
But also intriguing. I set my puzzle down and text back.
Wilder: She weird?
Mika: She’s my friend, what do you think?
Wilder: Slightly weird, but solid personality.
Mika: Exactly. You in?
I think on it for a second. I mean, there’s not much context to his message, but then again, things have been pretty flat around here, and I could use a new experience to mix up my day-to-day.
Might give me a chance to work on my improv skills, which I’ve been dying to do given the classes I’ve been taking. Bringing my knowledge into a real-world setting, really gets the adrenaline going.
Seems like a no-brainer to me.
Wilder: Yeah, I’m in. Send me the deets.
Mika: Awesome. Here’s her contact info. Meeting is tomorrow morning at nine. She’s humiliated that she even had to ask. Make sure you text her.
Wilder: Got it.
Scottie’s contact information comes up, and I click on it. The thumbnail picture of her shows off a beautiful girl with long, light brown hair. From what I can see, she has one of those noses that has the smallest of swoops at the end. The lightest splattering of freckles on her cheeks. And one single dimple on the right side of her face. She’s hot. Why the hell does she need a fake husband?
My phone buzzes with another text from Mika, startling me from staring at her picture.
Mika: You’re probably doing intel on her already, noticing how hot she is, but she’s drinking right now, so you might not want to text her at the moment. She’s questioning her decisions. Shoot for later.
Wilder: Understood.
