Page 136 of The Rules of Dating

Adam nodded and spoke to Maya. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re done.”

“Okay.”

Maya stepped to me and opened her arms for a hug. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Through my peripheral vision I caught the investigator watching, so I had no choice but to follow through with the embrace she offered. Maya kissed my cheek before I could pull away and whispered loud enough so everyone could hear. “Love you.”

I nodded and couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Facing the firing squad down the hall was more enticing than being in Maya’s arms.

Again, the investigator wasted no time jumping in. As soon as he’d turned the recording equipment on, he fired off the first question, asking about the type of birth control Maya used. Thanks to the chat I hadn’t even wanted to have last night, I knew the answer. The subsequent ten or so questions were all focused on things we’d either practiced or learned about each other over the last two weeks of living together. He asked how Maya took her coffee and where she put her dirty laundry. Knowing the answers went a long way toward settling my nerves, and it wasn’t lost on me that I probably wouldn’t have known half of them if she hadn’t forced me to let her move in. Everything seemed to be going well, and I started to feel like maybe I actually did know Maya a little bit. Until the first question came that stumped me.

“How many times a week do you and Mrs. Lennon go out to dinner?”

“Umm… Not too often.”

Investigator Weber pursed his lips. “I need an actual answer—five times, zero, three?”

“Well, it varies from week to week.”

“Okay. Let’s be more specific then. How many times did you go out to dinner in the last seven days?”

Shit. I took a few seconds to consider the question. “I think once.”

“You think?”

I nodded. “Yeah, it was once.”

“And can you tell me if Mrs. Lennon has any scars?”

“Scars?”

“Yes, you do know what a scar is, don’t you?”

Oh Jesus. This isn’t good.

Over the next three hours, I was grilled like a criminal. There were a few more questions I wasn’t sure of, and I tried to answer those as vaguely as possible. After the investigator finished with me, he asked me to wait out in the lobby, and Maya and Adam took their turn. I had the urge to pace as the minutes ticked by at a snail’s pace, but I thought it best to stay in my chair and try to not look so terrified, just in case the receptionist reported back to the investigator about my behavior. It was three-and-a-half hours more before Maya and my attorney came walking out from the back.

Officer Weber nodded to Adam. His face was an unreadable mask, just as it had been through most of the interview. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

Adam nodded back. “Thank you. Have a good afternoon.”

None of us said a word the entire elevator ride down to the street level. I think I might’ve held my breath until we were outside the building.

“So…” Adam turned to face us. “How do you think it went? Neither one of you seemed to stumble much on anything.”

“I felt like it went okay,” Maya said.

I nodded. “I’m afraid to say I thought it went okay, too.”

Adam smiled and rested a hand on my shoulder. “I get it. But at least it’s over now. It will be a few weeks before anything else happens.”

After my attorney left, Maya and I compared notes. We walked toward the train station rattling off questions and answers.

“What did you say for how many times a week we go out to dinner?” I asked.

“I said what I’ve witnessed so far—maybe once, at the most.”

I blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Good…good. I said the same thing. How about scars? Do you have any?”