Page 44 of The False Flat

I shoved a ginormous bite of macaroni into my mouth. “Well, that tops any story I’ve got.”

He smoothed his napkin over his lap, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched me talk through my pasta. “I have a feeling almost any story you tell me will be more interesting than my naked client one.”

I swallowed the bite before it was thoroughly chewed. “How can you be sure?”

“Because you’re the one telling it.”

I was the queen of pretense, so why couldn’t I keep the flush out of my cheeks?

“Grant, don’t be cheesy.”

“Am I being cheesy?”

I nodded. “I’m actually not that interesting. Before moving here, the most exciting decision in my life was which bicycle I was going to purchase.”

With his elbows propped on the table, he replied, “Fascinating.”

I rolled my eyes. “So how’s Deanna’s B and B going, and are we getting dessert or what?”

“Oh, we’re having dessert.” His napkin slapped the table as he jumped up. “Stay right there. Then I’ll tell you how great my plans are going.”

He jogged to the line, and as I watched him from our table, a warm, fuzzy feeling settled in my chest. I decided it was the kind of affection and admiration a starved dog would have for the first person who gave her a hot meal. Right now, the rest of my life wasn’t charming, so my perspective was skewed.

These warm feelings toward Grant would pass, and we’d settle into a normal friendship. Until then, I’d pretend this was a normal friendship . . . with a number ten . . . wearing a monocle. Great . . . I was diagnosable. But he wasn’t always a ten, only when I needed him to be.

He returned with two cups filled with some sort of yellow cream with a frothy, white topping.

I sniffed the one he placed in front of me. “What is this?”

“Taste it. And you should see Deanna’s place. They’ve got it stripped down, and she’s a beauty, like I suspected. But I do have one problem. I’m adamant on keeping this a secret. Deanna loves surprises, but I don’t know what goes in a B and B. I can find that out easily enough, but what goes in her B and B? And how trustworthy do you think Mere and Keyondra are? If I ask them questions, you think they’ll keep my secret?”

I loved that he was asking me these questions. “Am I the only one who knows?”

“The one and only.”

Tehehehe.

Get a grip!

“You haven’t said anything, have you?”

I shook my head. Our secret. If I kept his secret, maybe he’d keep mine, the fact that I was a mental case.

“I don’t really know Mere and Keyondra well enough.”

“Eh. I’ll probably have to tell them. Mere handles the finances. I think she’s the only one who could convince D that she can’t afford a place, which she can, but I don’t want her going out and buying something else.”

I nodded and picked up my spoon as he pointed to the corner of the room. “Do you see that couple over there?”

“The man in the blue shirtsleeves and the woman in the flowered dress?”

He nodded. “Fred and Doris. Excellent names, right?”

“Uhh . . .”

His jaw dropped, like he couldn’t believe I didn’t get it. “Fred and Doris . . . biking terms.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I ride, but barely? I’m not like you guys. Anything more than yoga pants, a tee, and a helmet were foreign to me until recently.”