I pulled up my Contacts and then my Favorites folder and hit Bryn’s name, holding the phone to my ear, hearing her answer, “Good morning?—”
“I need help.”
“Is this like 911 help? Or in-need-of-a-mimosa kind of help?”
I leaned back into the cushions. “Maybe somewhere in between.”
“You spent the night at Lockhart’s. Did something happen?”
“It went great, Bryn. I’m talking, it couldn’t have gone better. Except … he brought up Dear Foodie. But not in passing. Like, he really talked about her. That she has quite the influence on the food scene, and it’s fucking crazy that she’s been able to keep her identity a secret, and everyone wants to know who she is, and no one can figure it out.” I slid out my elastic, letting my hair fall to both sides of my face.
“Do you think he knows it’s you?”
“No.” As soon as the word left my mouth, I backtracked and voiced, “I mean, it’s possible, but I didn’t get the feeling he knew. He was too nonchalant about it. He wasn’t goading me. He was speaking freely about someone he—I don’t know—admires in a sense? I don’t even know if that’s the right way to describe it. But he made my recipe for dinner—the Greek meatballs. And side note: his tasted better than mine.”
“Good Lord.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, shall we? The men I’ve dated in the past, I swear, if I had shown up to their house with flaming red hair, they wouldn’t have noticed. And if I’d questioned them whether I looked different, they’d have probably asked if I got a new outfit. In other words, they weren’t observant at all. Maybe Lockhart is the same?”
I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know …”
“You hide yourself so well, Sadie. You disguise your voice. You don’t show any part of your face. The only things peoplesee are your arms and wrists and hands, and it’s not like you have fingers that are distinct or super memorable.”
I massaged between my eyebrows, where an ache was forming. “True.”
My phone beeped, and I pulled it away from my ear to look at the screen.
Lockhart
What do you have going on tonight?
Me
Girl dinner, LOL. You?
“I think you’re safe, which is what you’re worried about, right?” She paused. “You don’t want him to know about Dear Foodie?”
“There’s that, yes. But what happens if I eventually want him to know who I am?” I exhaled. “It’s like he already knows her. But we’re two different people who are, in some fucked-up way, the same. How do I even make that introduction?Oh, by the way, you’ve been using my recipes to cook your family dinner. I’m glad you enjoyed them. Let’s skip past the logistics of this nutty job I have and talk about—I don’t know—the weather?”
My phone beeped again.
Lockhart
What’s girl dinner?
I’m going out with my brother.
Me
A charcuterie board of whatever is in my fridge and pantry. Tell me you’re jealous, LOL.
Ooh. Where are you guys going?
“You’ve never had to tell any of your dates about that side of you,” she said.
I leaned forward, switching her to speakerphone while I held the phone on top of my knees. “And I’ve never had to have them sign an NDA, which is a hard requirement.”