Page 87 of Real Fake Husband

“Matilda pulled me aside the other day and asked if I thought I was ready to take on more responsibility.”

I gasp in excitement. “Kaylin, that’s wonderful.”

Kaylin works hard. I know she’s been wanting to take on more of a leadership role. I’m wondering if Matilda chose this moment to ask her because she plans to ask me to take over. If that’s the case, we’re going to need another supervisor, and Kaylin is the obvious choice. She’s smart, dependable, great with customers, and overall, a fantastic employee. Today I experienced firsthand that she’s gained a ton of confidence around crappy customers—something Matilda has surely noticed too.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” Kaylin says. “But I’m still excited.”

“You should be! No one deserves a promotion more than you.”

“Well, except you.”

I wave off her comment. “Enough about me. We’re talking aboutyouand how awesome you are. I’m glad Matilda sees it.”

“Okay, enough of that. What do I text Theo?” she asks.

“Oh, right. Text him: Hi Theo, this is Kaylin, we met at The Diner. Thank you for your number.Smiley face emoji.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“No question like ‘How are you?’ or ‘Will you take me on your bike with you’ or—”

“Do you want to spank my ass and call me princess?” I interrupt her.

We laugh.

“Can you imagine?” she asks, her face beaming with mischief.

“Oh, he’d be all over it, I’m sure. I mean, what man wouldn’t be?” I grin inwardly at the naughty memory Cal and I shared. It couldn’t be any more different from the ones we have from our time at school together.

“Yeah! See, I don’t want him to think I’m boring. That couldwork.”

“Yeah…well, no, I was kidding. It’s enough that you’re friendly. Let him do the work. Let him work for that pussy.”

“Oh. Good thinking. But are you sure about the smiley face? He’s a cool guy. Won’t he think it’s childish? Too cute?”

“Trust me, the tougher the dudes, the more they like smiley faces. It makes them think that they did something we like. It strengthens their ego.”

“Okay, good. Perfect. When should I text him? In a day or two, right? Or should I wait a bit longer? A week? I don’t want him to think I’m desperate.”

“Hon, at this point, he’ll probably think you’re not interested.”

“Hello, ladies,” Cal arrives home. He’s wearing loose jeans with holes in the knees. His dark-blue T-shirt hugs his chest, revealing his muscles through the fabric. “Hope I’m not intruding on girls’ night,” he says charmingly, entering the kitchen just as we do. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“I was just leaving,” Kaylin says, handing me her empty wineglass, so I can put it in the sink with mine. “But before I do, Josie honey, let me give you the number of that art gallery owner I mentioned.”

“Give me that damn card. Now promise you will leave me alone?”

“Maybe.” She smirks, rifles through her purse, and hands me the business card. “It was just one douchebag’s opinion. Youhaveto show him your new work. It’s spectacular.”

Chuckling, I take it and hug her. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The card is plain. The off-white structure represents a canvas, with small lettering right in the center in Charleston green. Just his name, Bryce Armbruster, and a mobile number. It’s neat—and menacing.

“Thank you. I’ll seriously consider it this time. Now get out of here. It’s late, and I want to go to bed.”

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