Page 57 of The Love Hoax
“I respectfully disagree. We have this down, Evie. Even with Steph’s exceptional sniffing skills, she won’t figure it out.”
“What about your mother?”
“My mom will be too busy with all the last-minute wedding things. Any spare moment will be focused on Steph. Or should I say, Bridezilla.”
I’m not convinced, but Adam knows the involved parties. He has far more on the line than I do. If he thinks we can pull it off, I’ll trust him. Even if what I’ve heard about Adam’s little sister borders on the scary.
“If you’re going to depict our plan so critically, then at least include how you are essentially doing a good deed,” Adam says, taking in the skeptical look on my face. “You met my mom.”
“She was fun.”And perhaps a bit of an alcoholic.
Adam’s demeanor turns serious. “All kidding aside, I can’t show my face there—actually Steph made it clear I shouldn’t even come—without my fiancée. I don’t have a lot of family. Evie, this would have turned into a messy situation. If not for you.”
I hear the sadness in his voice. “Point taken. Maybe this is the time to start calling me Ronna.”
Adam gives me a look then smiles, his handsome features lightening up. I feel warmth course through me. Outside, the mountains are changing, like someone flicked a switch that gradually sheds rays higher up the craggy rockface.
“Are you going to tell me the lost tooth story?” I ask.
Adam chuckles. “Sure. It all started when I was helping my mom bake my sister’s birthday cake…”
Adam goes on to tell the tale of a crying five-year-old Stephanie, biting into her birthday cake and chewing on her brother’s tooth. His voice is melodic and filled with nostalgia.
I think of my little boys, sleeping soundly on the sofa, cartoons flickering silently on the television screen. I feel their sweet breath on my neck as I carry them to bed. They smell of baby shampoo and freshly laundered pajamas.
As the car rocks gently, my eyes begin to close.
Chapter Forty
Adam
The glorious, shimmering lake fills my windshield as I drive the Honda along U.S. 50, Lake Tahoe’s scenic peripheral road. The last couple of hours have been spent in my head.
When Evie dozed off to my story, I made sure to stay quiet, not turning on the radio. She looks so peaceful, her breath coming softly, her head leaning against the window. She’s gorgeous. And kind. And fun.
The truth is having Evie beside me, even sound asleep, feels comforting. Like I’m not alone anymore. Being alone has never bothered me. In fact, it’s been my preference for longer than I can recall. But something changed with Evie’s unexpected arrival in my life. I realize being with someone I really like is exceedingly enjoyable. Evie has quickly become someone to share both my quiet moments and crazy escapades.
Ronna, not Evie, I chastise myself.
Images from the week fill my mind. Evie singlehandedlybeating Zane at pool. Her panic when I nearly roll off the cliff. Fretting when she lost her job. Floating in my pool, eyes closed, in nothing more than her . . .
As if sensing my thoughts, Evie shifts in her seat, then settles down once more.
The week has been incredible. And enlightening.
I still can’t believe Evie agreed to drive all the way to Breckenridge with me. If she’d asked, I would have purchased a plane ticket for her and met her in Colorado. But it was never broached and I’m glad for it. I want to spend more time with her, and not only to get our backstories straight.
The truth is I can’t seem to get enough of her. There’s so much I want to know. Regardless of our ruse.
I think about my mother’s words, calling attention to the age gap between me and Evie. Thirteen years to be exact. Evie has two grown sons and an ex-husband. Some would call that baggage. I don’t care a whit.
There isn’t a soul on the planet without baggage.
As if an angel whispered in her ear, Evie blinks open her eyes and stretches, drawing her arms up and back, behind the headrest, like a lithe cat.
Staring out the window, her jaw drops open, marveling. The lake shimmers under an afternoon sky, boats floating along the sun-drenched waters.
“Where are we?”
