Faking It with the Frenemy

It makes me clench my jaw. Isn’t it enough that she’s making our daughter feel unwanted? Now she wants to use her? “I already told you she wasn’t going to do that. She just wants to be there to meet her new…stepdad.” The word sticks in my throat like a half-wet, moldy biscuit.

“He’s not really interested in children. He isn’t marrying me to have babies.” Her tone clearly says, Unlike you.

Except I never wanted to have children, not so young and not with somebody lik

e her, who thinks nothing of abandoning her own flesh and blood over a man. She said he’s a billionaire, as though the man’s net worth justifies what she’s done. The guy could be a trillionaire for all I care.

“Then just accept that Vi isn’t interested in the farce, either,” I say coldly.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think she wants unicorns flying over a rainbow for your wedding?”

“Why the hell not? She’s my kid! She should be happy for me!”

The scary thing is that Geneva sounds utterly convinced. Not for the first time, I wonder what it takes to be this oblivious and self-centered. “She was happy for you, until you decided to dump her for a new husband.”

“What?” There’s a pause. “Kids are so weird these days.”

“Yeah. God forbid one would actually want her mother to give her some priority.”

She sighs. It’s the same sigh she always lets out when she can’t think of anything to say back. “Do you think you can manage to bring somebody fitting for the ceremony? I know you aren’t coming alone. Just don’t bring a hooker or anyone like that. It’s a classy event.”

A muscle under my eye starts twitching. Now I wish Vi weren’t going so I could pick up the trashiest hooker available for this classy event.

“My baker’s even going to put my cake on Instagram! I’m going to be part of it, too. She’s got a huge following, and it’ll probably go viral,” Geneva continues. “So I don’t want anything that looks wrong in the photos, you know? Oh, and can you also use your company to help publicize the photos? I know Sweet Darlings’ app is for privately sharing photos, but maybe you could have the ones of me pushed to their users?”

Geneva doesn’t need a new husband. She needs a mental hospital. “You have to be kidding.”

“Of course I’m not kidding. Why would I be kidding? If you—”

“I gotta go. I have a meeting,” I say, and hang up. If I could, I’d block her number. But there are times we need to chat because of Vi. So like it or not, I’m stuck.

I go back to the project planning, and when my stomach growls, I leave for a late lunch. I want nachos with extra jalapeños to cleanse my palette. And there are a lot of great Mexican restaurants near the apartment.

When I get back, I see boxes outside Kim’s door. A cute blonde I’ve never seen before is adding to the pile. Maybe Kim’s getting a roommate?

Actually, never mind. It looks like the blonde is moving out.

“Hey. Need some help?” I ask.

The blonde turns around.

“Sorry, I should introduce myself.” I gesture at my apartment door just as Kim appears. “I’m—”

“Just leaving,” Kim cuts in with a thin smile. “And no, we don’t need any help. Evie, let’s go.”

What’s going on? I don’t mind helping, even if she accused my ass of being flat. “Kim—”

“We’re very busy. Oh, don’t forget to take your cat.”

I look down and see Princess at Kim’s feet. What’s she doing here? I thought I left her at home.

Then it reminds me of what Kim accused me of earlier—that she “knew what I’d been doing with Princess.” Has the cat been bugging Kim somehow? Ugh.

I pick Princess up and go inside my apartment, since Kim’s obviously annoyed with me. I shake a finger at Princess. “Don’t bother Kim. She doesn’t like cats.” At least, she doesn’t like them as much as dogs.

Princess blinks in response, doing her Sphinx act.