Page 40 of Once Upon a Lie

“What’s his name again?” Cher asks. “It started with an S, right?”

“Shane.”

“You said that really, really fast,” Sunnie interjects, assessing my face closely.

“Oh my God.” I sigh. “He’s my neighbor. In my building, neighbors know names, Rita makes sure of it.”

“Yeah, but you also chatted with him in a morning rush,” Cher points out, eyes widening. “Like . . . actually talked. You never chat to people during a rush.”

“I was being polite.”

“You were intrigued,” Sunnie corrects. “I saw your face.”

“My face was normal.”

“It was not normal,” Cher says. “It was doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

Cher flaps a hand. “The thing where you get all soft and smiley and your voice does that cute little uptick like you’re in a rom-com directed by Nora Ephron.”

“I don’t do an uptick.”

Both of them stare at me.

“I don’t,” I insist.

They keep staring.

I sigh. “Okay, maybe I do a tiny uptick.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sunnie hums triumphantly.

I sigh. “How about we try to get out of here before midnight?” I question as I wipe down the espresso machine one last time.

“I guess that’s our cue, Cher Bear,” Sunnie says through a giggle. “Teeny doesn’t want to talk about Smokin’ Hot Shane anymore.”

“Shame.” Cher shrugs. “I’d talk about Smokin’ Hot Shane all day long.”

“Me too,” Sunnie agrees. “Me too.”

I ignore my subconscious’s screams of Me three! with every vestige of my control.

When the bell over the door jingles, I absolutely don’t perk up, hoping it’s the new guy himself, straggling in for a last-minute Asiago.

Disappointment, thankfully, is fleeting, because while it isn’t some new, intriguing guy with warm eyes and veiny forearms, it is the steadiest man I’ve ever dared to count on.

“Store’s closed, Alfred,” I call out automatically, our propensity to tease one another filtering straight through my weird mind mess.

White hair, thick glasses, and khaki shorts ironed to within an inch of their life, Alfred sidles toward the counter with Pip at his side while the door closes behind them. Pip’s tiny legs pump double time to keep up, and his little tongue hangs out like he’s grinning, plain bagel undoubtedly on the brain.

“You say that every time, and every time, you still manage to leave the door unlocked for me,” Alfred mocks back.

“Yeah, well,” I say, smiling, “you bring the good company.”

Pip makes a beeline for me, curling up right on my foot with a cute little sigh.

“You ready for the park?” Alfred asks.