Page 74 of Once Upon a Lie

Me: ​​You are going to make Rita lose her mind.​​

Nico, the rat, notices. “You texting him now?”

“Mind your business, Nico. It’s work emails.”

Shane: ​​She’ll survive.​​

Me: ​​I feel like you’re taking this all a little too cavalier, buddy. The woman’s got security cameras all over our building. She’s going to be watching you like a hawk.​​

Shane: ​​Then I hope her cameras get my good side.​​

Me: ​​You only have good sides.​​

Shane: ​​Ah, so you do know who the handsome guest is. ​​

I smile into my wine.

“Are you texting that asshole you’re dating?” Nico presses again. “Tell him to fuck right off for me.”

I roll my eyes. “Like I said before, it’s work emails. You try running a bakery without flour.”

My brother doesn’t believe me, but I tuck my phone away and keep my eyes on my plate of lasagna to avoid drawing attention to myself by texting Shane again, and luckily for me, I do it quickly enough that my dad doesn’t press.

Instead, he and Leo and Nico talk Cordone Freight logistics, boring my mom so much she starts flitting again, moving in and out of the dining room and waxing poetic to Helen about floral mock-ups for the Cordone Ball. I wish I had an excuse to leave the table, but save getting pulled into my mother’s web, I don’t.

I settle for zoning out until my dad calls my name and jolts me back to reality. “Teeny!” I force my eyes to focus. “The bookkeeper’s been asking for your receipts and inventory from the shop. We’re closing out the quarter. He needs everything soon.”

“Okay,” I say easily, knowing quick compliance is best. “I’ll get them to you soon.”

“Good girl,” he says, already moving on and leaving me back to my own devices.

Helen sets plates of tiramisu down on the table for dessert, and Mom sits back down to rattle on about centerpieces and lighting rentals, but this time she’s pulled all the men into the conversation. I use the distraction to pick back up on messaging with Shane.

Me: ​​Almost time to head back to my temporary home at Alfred’s. Thank God.​​

Shane: ​​Tell him I said hi.​​

Me: ​​You tell him yourself. Maybe over dinner tomorrow?​​

Shane: ​​If you’re there, count me in.​​

I stare at the text, smiling cheesily, and when an idea hits me, my pulse kicks up a few notches.

Maybe Alfred’s right. Maybe I should stop waiting and start pursuing.

Be bold.

Maybe Shane needs a visit from me tonight.

25

Shane

11:00 p.m.

I’m halfway through brushing my teeth when someone knocks on the front door of my condo.

I’d love to make assumptions, but given the history of this building, it’s liable to be anyone. Rita with a trumped-up violation—I’d have to throw her off my balcony, I’m pretty sure. Stanley with a stray piece of mail, or Callie, just looking for some excitement.