“What is Brie doing here?” he asked, a bitter edge to his voice.
I had so many questions now. Why did he go pale at the sight of this woman? Who is she? Why didn’t Andrew like this guy? And why was Andrew pretending to be married to me?
“I’m standing right here. You can ask me directly,” she said. “Spanish is one of the six languages I speak. I’m here to help.” She focused on me with a squint of annoyance. “Are you also working at Octavian Global? Is that how the two of you met?”
If I were going to play along pretending to be Charlotte, it was best to stick to the truth as much as I could. How many years would it have been since Andrew and I met and got married? I tried to calculate how old Lulu was. Six. Maybe seven years old.
“No. We met on vacation. Eight years ago,” I said.
She peered at Andrew, her face awash with confusion. “Is that true, Andy?”
Andrew stared at me with a perplexed expression and mouthed. “What?”
Perhaps I’d made a mistake in my calculations. Sweat started to build up under my knees. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Andrew let out a heavy sigh. “Is there something you two need from us? We would like to get back to our breakfast.”
A sneer spread across dickhead’s face. “Come on, darling, the car is probably ready.”
“See you later, Andy,” Brie said, wiggling her fingers over her shoulder as they strode across the patio and disappeared through the open doors. Why did she keep calling him Andy? That sounded so personal, so touchy, so clingy. I didn’t like it.
The smile slipped off my face and I tugged my hand away at the same time Andrew relaxed his grip.
“Next time, let me do the talking,” he said, picking up a glass of water and taking several gulps.
My earlier warm protective feeling had twisted into irritation. “Next time, give me a briefing on our marriage.”
Andrew’s jaw muscles spasmed as he clenched his teeth. I waited for him to explain who those people were and what had crawled up his ass.
William sauntered onto the patio just then wearing a Cuban collared shirt peppered with pink cocktails and beach umbrellas and white shorts that matched his wide, bright smile. He waved to us.
“Cheer up, love, it might never happen,” William said with a bad English accent as he slipped on a chair across from Andrew. “Isn’t that what you chaps say in the UK to everyone who looks like… well, like you right now?”
When neither of us said anything, he leaned back in his seat, rubbing his chin. “What did I miss?”
“I got married,” I said.
“WTF? And I wasn’t invited? Who’s the lucky guy?”
I nodded to my right. “Apparently he is.”
“I approve.” William removed a decorative red flower from his mango juice and dropped it into his glass of water. When had his drink appeared? Was I so fixated on Andrew’s face I’d missed the server? “Now, tell me all the dirty wedding night deeds.”
Andrew rubbed his face and gave a tired groan. “I apologize about Richard.”
“Who is Richard?” William asked.
“Andrew’s rival stopped by,” I said, “and Andrew pretended we were married and politely told him and his… wife?”—I glanced at Andrew—“to go squat in a cactus patch.”
“Draaaama.” William smiled and expectedly gawked at Andrew for clarification. “Come on. Give up the good stuff. What happened?”
“Dr. Richard Head and I?—”
William burst out a loud laugh at the name, his head thrown back. I smiled and watched a ghost of a smile pass over Andrew’s face. William waved his hand. “I’m sorry, go on.”
“Richard and I worked together and then…” Andrew looked where Richard and Brie had disappeared inside the restaurant. “We had a disagreement, and our interests ran in opposite directions.”
“That isn’t the good stuff,” William said. “It’s a summary. What. Happened?”
