Page 35 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“Parent-trapping your parents is a bad idea,” Lulu singsonged, reaching for her beer.

“It’s brilliant,” Truly singsonged right back. “I’m sorry you don’t have the vision to see it.”

“Oh, I’ve got vision.” Lulu waggled her brows.

“Pervert.” Truly giggled. Maybe she’d skip the Dirty Shirley. This second beer was hitting her hard and fast. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Colin. He’s the one who gave me the idea.”

Kind of. Technically, she’d come up with it on her own, but Colin was definitely the one who’d planted the seed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the phone. Colin?” Lulu leaned her elbows on the sticky table. “The dude you want to hate-fuck?”

“If you mean the guy I’m doing the podcast with, then yes,” Truly said primly. “I do not, nor have I ever wanted to, hate-fuck anyone.”

Lulu burst out laughing.

“I don’t! I—his advice isn’t half bad, all right?” She squirmed atop her barstool. “Maybe he’s not entirely awful, either. He’s actually kind of clever. Funny.”

“Oh, you so want to sit on his face.” Lulu grinned. “I fucking knew it. Slut.”

“Lulu!”

“I say that with all the love in my heart. Reclaim the word, hon. Seize that bull by the balls.”

Truly balked. “Horns. It’s seize the bull by the horns.”

Lulu smirked. “Isn’t that what I said?”

Truly brought the glass to her lips and chugged. She was not nearly inebriated enough for this. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is the chemistry you two had.” Lulu fanned herself. “If I could bottle that shit up and sell it, I’d make millions. Millions.”

“It’s not like that. Colin and I aren’t like that.”

Lulu rested her chin on her folded hands. “And whose fault is that, hm?”

“No one’s. It’s—” Her phone buzzed, lighting up with a text from an unknown number. Great. Probably another of those we’ve been trying to reach you about your vehicle’s extended warranty spam texts. “Sorry. One sec.”

She pried her phone off the sticky tabletop and swiped at the screen.

The fuck?

Her heart stopped.

Dark and slightly blurry, that was clearly a snapshot of someone’s Kindle. A Kindle with two of her most recent books downloaded.

Truly flashed Lulu the screen. “That’s weird, right?”

Her number wasn’t public. It wasn’t on her website. Her publicist had it, yeah, but Mel wouldn’t give it out all willy-nilly.

Lulu frowned. “Local number?”

206. “Yup.”

Lulu looked over her left shoulder, then her right. Like anyone in this dive had their fucking Kindle out. “Ask ’em what they want.”

Truly rolled her eyes.

Truly (10:15 p.m.): Who is this?

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