I glared. “You don’t understand. Sarah’s...intense.”
“She’s your best friend,” he said mildly, setting his phone down. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“It’s theworstthing. She can smell guilt like a shark smells blood. One time, she knew I stole her eyeliner just from my breathing pattern.”
He blinked, unsure whether to laugh or call for help. “You have...interesting friendships.”
“Don’t deflect.” I leaned closer. “You have to act normal. No weird answers, no rudeness, no sarcasm.”
“So...not myself at all, then.”
“Exactly.”
He reached for his coffee. “Remind me again why this matters so much?”
“Because Sarah is myperson. If she doesn’t like you, she’ll tell me. Brutally. And if she suspects anything about our arrangement, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“You mean the arrangement where we’re married?”
I kicked him under the table.
He winced. “You’re violent when you’re nervous.”
“Occupational hazard.” I shot him a look. “This is your fault, by the way.”
“My fault?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t be this nervous if you hadn’t fallen asleep before I could test you. You didn’t even have any ice cream. I had to eat the entire tub alone.”
That earned me the smallest curve of his mouth. “You didn’thaveto do that.”
“Oh, I did,” I said. “It was for emotional support. Some people work out after their husband triggers them—others eat dessert meant for two.”
“So you punished the ice cream for my crimes.”
“It’s what it would’ve wanted.”
He chuckled, but before he could say more, I saw her—Sarah—breezing through the cafeteria doors, radiating the kind of charismatic confidence that made everyone else straighten up. She spotted me instantly and waved.
“Oh God,” I muttered, standing. “She’s here. Okay, remember—normal. Be. Normal.”
Khalifa raised a brow. “You keep saying that like it’s a switch I can just flip on.”
I plastered on a smile as Sarah approached, her gaze bright and curious.
“Lilly!” she said, hugging me. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting your husband.”
Khalifa stood. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Sarah sat down across from us, eyes glinting like she’d just been handed front-row tickets to her favorite reality show. She didn’t say anything at first—just stared at him. And kept staring.
Khalifa leaned closer to me, his voice low and deadpan. “Is a staring contest the first question?”
“Just getting a read,” she said sweetly, folding her hands in mock seriousness. “So, you’re the mysterious Khalifa.”
“I suppose I am,” he said easily, settling back in his chair.
I could already see the gears turning in Sarah’s head—the investigative journalist mode. Once she started, there was no stopping her.
