“But you had a boyfriend,” Adeline said. “I know he turned out to be a terrible boyfriend, but what was all that about?”
What could I say? My husband knew but decided to keep the salient details to himself? It was just so complicated. Better to stick to the original bones of the lie.
“We were so drunk we didn’t even realize it had happened. Just before Alexei moved to Chicago, he found the marriage certificate and here we are.”
Summer smiled at me. “But I thought he was my boyfriend. We were having such a good time in the Renegades locker room.”
Franky took off her glasses to clean them. “‘Were’ being the operative word here. Autumn Deveraux and Sexy Rexy are no more.”
Summer looked shocked. “But when?”
Adeline laughed. “While you were in Par-ee with your real boyfriend, your fake one went back to his first love, the summer exchange student who broke his heart in Vladivostok.”
All eyes turned toward me. I shrugged. “So the author reads Hot Goss like everyone else.”
“This new development occurred before the Vegas husband news came out.” Franky rubbed Cammi’s back. “Someone is either very good at guessing or is closer to the action than we might have previously thought.”
“You’re saying the fan fiction author might be someone we know?”
Franky raised an expressive eyebrow. “Just a hypothesis of mine. Conor agrees and is running an investigation.”
Rosie snorted. “God save us from hockey players turned podcasters thinking they can now solve mysteries.”
I pointed at Rosie. “What’s with you and Conor Kershaw, anyway?”
“Oh, trying to deflect, are we?”
Yes, but so was she!
“There’s nothing more to say. We’re practically divorced anyway—we just need to file the paperwork.”
“Oh!” Adeline said. “I thought you two were cute together at the paint-in. I hope you’re not letting the Thad stuff muddle everything.”
Was I? Maybe. But it was hard to get a bead on exactly how my mind tracked these days.
My phone buzzed. Normally I would have it on do not disturb, but I needed to be on call for the few clients that remained on my roster. It was Galen Frisk.
“Sorry, guys, got to take this. Carry on gossiping behind my back.”
I headed out to the foyer. Galen had stuck with me even though his hundred grand signing bonus was likely in the wind. I was expecting him to bail—and then sue—at any moment.
“Hey, Frisco, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, Lauren, it’s all good. You’ll never believe what happened.” He paused for a dramatic effect worthy of his influencer girlfriend. “I just got my money back!”
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he opened the door with his shirt off. I was that mad I might have raced upstairs to get another sweater.
But the man who greeted me was disappointingly dressed, probably because I had already texted to say I’d like to stop by, assuming that was convenient and wouldn’t upset the Nazarovs’ evening routine.
“Lauren,” he said, his tone one of such longing I almost melted on the spot.
Then I remembered why I was here. “Is Sasha in bed?”
“Yes, he went up about an hour ago.”
“Can you step outside so I can yell at you?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How about you step inside so you cannot?”
