Page 16 of The Wild Card
And despite my desperation to know it, no one says his name. I might be the only person in this room who doesn’t know my supposed boyfriend’s name.
Whoever he is, he’s fully committed to this charade. I should be grateful, but it still feels like some kind of trick. Especially now.
Surely, I can’t be the only one in the room who is unaware of who he is. But almost everyone seems to. I can visibly see the whispers as people pass the info along. They’re met with wide eyes and double takes.
I’m starting to sweat. Who did I happen to convince to be my fake date, and why couldn’t it have been someonenormal?Not someone everyone knows. A guy I apparently should know. I already felt off-kilter.
Now, I’m wondering if I ever evenhada kilter to begin with.
The stuffed unicorn is my only friend. And it’s not even mine.
“Who does this belong to?” I ask as we take seats around the folding tables. I give the unicorn the seat next to me. She’ll make a perfect buffer between me and anyone else who might sit down and ask questions about my boyfriend that I can’t answer.
“She belongs to Jo.”
“Who’s he?”
“She.”
I drop my sandwich as my head swivels slowly toward him. “Jo is a she?”
Mr. Biceps nods, looking completely casual. “Mm-hm.”
“You said you were single. Is Jo your girlfriend?”
He laughs. “No.”
I swallow. He’s not wearing a ring. But …
“Your wife?” I whisper.
Beside me, he chokes, and Kelvin appears, slapping him on the back. “You okay, man? Someone get him some water!”
“Thank you.” Taking a sip from one of several bottles of water people thrust in front of him, he meets my gaze. Winks.
Forget cute and charming. He’s infuriating. An infuriating, button-pushing charmer with admittedly great arms.
“I said I was single, didn’t I?” he asks in a low voice. I still glance around in a panic in case anyone heard. But the room is full, and the acoustics make it hard to distinguish any conversations around us. It’s just noise.
“So, then who’s Jo?”
“Jo is my niece.” He wipes his mouth. “My dad won this for her, and I was instructed to keep it safe. Actually …”
He pulls out his phone and before I can duck out of the frame, he snaps a picture of me and the unicorn, then fires off a text.
“Sending proof of life,” he says, setting his phone face down on the table.
I wonder what he said about me.Didhe say anything about me? Maybe he cropped me out before he sent it. But the way his phone starts buzzing almost immediately makes me think I was definitely in the picture.
He takes a big bite of his sandwich, smiling as he chews. “What?” he asks.
It shouldn’t be cute. It still is.
“I can’t figure out your game.”
“What game?”
“The one you’re playing with me.”
