“She’s tied up with a lot. Once things have smoothed over, I’ll let you see her.” That guilt twists my gut, but I need time. I don’t know what I’m waiting on, but I have an opportunity I can’t pass up. There’s still so much I don’t know about this woman, and I can’t let her slip through my fingers.
“Can I at least text my mom?” She asks, her voice full of hope. “I told her I would reach out when I got to Columbus.”
This is the part I know she won’t like.
I saw the call log.
Imagine the reaction I got when I asked Alana to scramble the GPS signal. She and Connor thoroughly questioned me about why I had a random woman’s phone and why said random woman looked an awful lot like the woman in the photos they'd seen days ago.
I will never live that down.
“I already texted her.” I sigh, flipping the steaks.
“You texted my mom?!” Addison seethes.
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable!” She throws her hands up. “You can’t keep posing as me! She’s going to know something is up.”
“Which is why I told her who I am. I’m your boyfriend, and I helped you move up here. End of story.”
She gets a cocky expression on her face. “I don’t have a boyfriend, and I tell that woman everything. If she went along with it, it’s because she knows you’re lying.”
I return her cocky look. “Really? Well, Morgan and I hada lovely conversation earlier. I can see where you get your headstrong will from.”
“You’re on a first-name basiswithmy mother?!” Addison’s face twists in horror.
“I am,” I turn my nose up at her.
“You suck.”
“Not as good as you, Sunshine.”
She makes a frustrated sound, and I know I’ve won this battle.
I pile our plates high with food before bringing them to the table. I slide Addison’s before her, and she lifts a brow. “Do I eat this with my hands?”
“Can I trust you with a fork and knife?”
“Caveman-style it is.” She mutters before picking at her broccoli with her nails.
“I have some work to finish after dinner, but feel free to explore.” Making small talk seems a little strange now that she knows most of my secrets, but it isn’t bad.
“Why am I locked in here?”
Her question throws me for a mental loop. “So you don’t run screaming for the hills.”
She frowns at her plate. “I have nothing to entertain myself with.”
I motion to the flatscreen over the fireplace. “Watch whatever you would like. I have every streaming service imaginable, thanks to Alana.”
Her eyes shift up to me, and I see a crack in the rigid ice wall. “Who’s Alana?”
Is thatjealousyI hear in her voice?
It can’t be.
“Why do you want to know?” I shouldn’t push her, but I can’t help it. Poking at her is far too much fun.
