My phone bleats.

It’s Nora.

“Hallo, German spy,” I say.

“Guten Abend. I’m calling because I want to go out on a high note, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

20

The next morning, Nora spins her replacement around to face the mirror hanging on Truly’s bedroom door, presenting her like she’s in a pageant. Granted, Truly looks stunning in the simple blue dress I sent to her.

“You look amazing.” Nora sings the last word. “Now, have you thought about what name you’re going to use?”

Nora’s here because . . . well, she insisted. She leaves tonight for Chicago, and she wanted to send us out on a high note, she told me when she rang last night. She also wanted to ride in style to the airport, and I can’t blame her. Chip is sending a swank limo for me, and I’m taking off soon and will drop Nora off at the airport on the way to the photo shoot. Truly will join me later.

“She’s Julie. That’s the name I told Chip,” I say from my spot on Truly’s couch.

Nora shoots death rays at me with her hazel eyes. “She can’t be a Julie. Why did you give her that name?”

“Why can’t she be a Julie?”

“Julie’s pretty easy for me not to fuck up,” Truly says dryly. “I have to agree with Jason on this one.”

Nora grabs Truly’s shoulders. “Because this is your opportunity. This is your chance. You could have been Ramona, a naughty librarian who wears fishnet stockings under her pencil skirts. You could have been Svetlana, a Russian orphan finally finding her way in America. Or, even better, Francesca, the Brazilian heir to an oil conglomerate, who escaped from . . . a cartel. Personally, I liked to use names like Zosa and Marta.”

It’s a wonder no one saw through the ruse. But then again, Nora can act. She’s not always over-the-top. Just with friends.

“But then I’d have to do an accent, wouldn’t I?” Truly reminds us. “I’m not really an accent person. Though I can do a good Midwestern one. And then when Damien Grey the Third bent me over the piano, he spanked me and slid inside me, and it felt oh so good.”

My jaw disengages from my skull and falls to the floor. Even in her Midwestern good-girl accent, she sounds fucking hot. “Yes, just do that all night.”

Nora laughs. “It’s very convincing. Maybe for the next one?” Nora’s hope is like an extra exuberant person in the room. “Or maybe you could be a delightful Southern belle. Perhaps you could be Abigail Anna from Savannah.”

“Why would I want to draw more attention to myself? I’m only there as a shield for him.” Truly flaps her arm at me.

“You’re both a shield and a lubricant,” Nora says, amused. “It’s what my agent says. Use me as your shield or your lubricant.”

I raise a hand. “If you’re choosing, I’d really like to be the lube.”

“Darling,” Truly says, trying on Southern Belle after all, “I’m the lube. Try to remember.”

Nora claps. “See? It’s so much more fun.”

Truly twirls her hair and smacks her lips, as if she’s chewing gum. “Like, I don’t know. I totally don’t know if it’s more fun. Does it, like, feel more fun to you?”

I crack up at her ditz routine. “Look at all your hidden talents.”

Truly takes a bow then says in her own voice, “Listen, I’m only going as Jason’s date. I don’t need to do a whole song and dance.”

Nora scoffs for a full minute. “Oh no, no, no, no. He’s not Jason tonight. You can’t call him by his real name.”

“Right, I nearly forgot.” Truly meets my gaze. “What am I calling you? Can you be Cornelius?”

I wiggle an eyebrow. “Depends when you want to call me that.”

Nora fluffs Truly’s hair and offers more names. “How about Mortimer? Or better yet, Wilbur? Hold on. Let me grab a comb.” She scurries to the other side of the room where she left her purse.

Truly walks closer to me, a smile tugging at her lips. “Can I call you Wilbur tonight?”

“Only if I’m deep inside you,” I mouth.

Truly’s eyes simmer. “You’re not going to be inside me.”

“Then you’re not going to call me Wilbur.”

Nora returns with a silver hair clip. “Let me just do this. If you like it, I’ll show you how, and you can do it tonight, okay? Personally, I like wigs, but the idea is the same. A new hairstyle can make you feel like a whole different person. It’ll help you get into character.”

She threads her hands through Truly’s hair, fashioning it into a French twist, and . . . wow. Truly looks . . . just wow. Her neck is divine and begging me to kiss it.

Be good. She’s your best friend’s sister. She’s your friend. And you need this job badly to help Abby.

But that neck. I want to get my mouth all over it. I want to inhale her. Devour her.

Truly gestures to her new ’do. “What do you think?”

I think my mouth is dry. I think I can’t form words without gravel in them. But I find my voice, answering her as nonchalantly as I possibly can, given the hard matters south of the border. “I think down works fine.”

Nora gives a dismissive grunt. “Fine? Fine is for peanut butter sandwiches. You look delicious like this. Like a strawberry cupcake. Ooh, one more thing. What’s your job, if someone asks? You could be a banker, all buttoned up. Or even a belly dancer. That’s exotic but believable. No one can call you on that.”

“I took a belly-dancing class once.” Truly wiggles her hips, then she snaps her fingers. “I know! I know what I want to do.”

She heads for her bedroom and returns wearing a pair of black glasses. “Costume glasses. You approve?”

“Of everything,” I say, picturing how all the pieces—dress, hair, hot-for-teacher glasses—will come together.

If I didn’t have a sexy librarian fetish before, I do now.

No, that’s not it. If I’m honest, I just have a Truly fetish, and it’s getting so damn strong I’d even be willing to let her call me Wilbur.

21

I see blue.

Gorgeous sapphire blue.

How is it possible that outfit looks even better now? Perhaps it’s the sunset, that golden hue that makes everyone and everything a little softer, a little closer to perfect. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking of her all day. Thinking of her since I saw her try on that dress. Thinking of her taking it off.

Truly arrives before the ceremony as I’m waiting on the lawn at the inn in Connecticut.