Page 89 of The Love Hoax
“Thanks.”
“Wasn’t expecting snow.”
I’m not one for small talk and make my way to the liquor cabinet. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“What’s the strongest thing you have?”
Seems Steph and I are on the same page.
“A bottle of Kentucky bourbon. It’s what I’m having.”
Brad says, “Make it three, please.”
I bring over three glasses and the bottle. I keep the whiskey in the house ‘just in case.’ If ever there was a time to open it, this is it.
I take a seat on the opposite loveseat, realizing that Caroline was the last person to sit in the same exact spot Stephanie now occupies. As much as that conversation had been a disaster, this one will surely be far worse.
I pour out three shots and down one. Steph follows suit, then says, “I hear your name is Evie Lawson.”
“Guilty as charged,” I say, immediately regretting the choice of words I am using with a federal officer.
I refill my glass but don’t drink it. I need my wits about me. “Before you say your piece, I need to apologize.”
Steph sighs.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m so embarrassed for lying . . . to all of you.”
Brad nods. “Thanks, that helps.”
We sit in silence for a full minute, me unsure what else to say. “Well, then, if that’s all?—”
“I ran a thorough background check on you,” Steph blurts out.
“Excuse me?” I say, not sure I’m hearing her correctly.
“My friends, the ones you met at the wedding?—”
“The Feds,” Brad says, like he’s eaten something unsavory.
My defenses are building a Wall of China. I do my best to keep my voice even. “I remember them.”
Steph sucks on her teeth, Brad shifts in his seat.
Steph says, “I asked them to look into your history. Everything.”
What?
I gulp audibly. “Define ‘everything.’”
“Your education, job history, finances, kids, reason for your divorce.”
Hearing her mention my boys, my mama bear is ready to poke out its head and growl. Loudly.
I want to protest the vile breach of my privacy. Before I can ask if what she’s done is even legal, Steph says, “I needed to know what else you were lying about.”
“Nothing,” I say, seething.
“I know that now but I didn’t then.”
