Maid for Each Other(24)

“I usually go to the gym around now, so it’s fine,” I lied, still shocked she’d been so understanding about my situation.

Although to be honest, I was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before she came up with a price for my stay. I suspected it was the surprise of my request that was responsible for her generosity, not a kind heart, because if she’d felt comfortable asking for forty thousand dollars to spend a weekend playing house, she was definitely going to come up with a fee for this request.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, be careful on the treadmill.”

She turned and walked toward the kitchen, her smart-ass face grinning at me from all over those ridiculous pajamas. I was tempted to follow her, just so I could deliver a verbal strike-back, but something told me that wasn’t a good idea.

I’d get coffee later.

I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and I was out of there.

Only I’d barely finished stretching when I got a text from her.

Abi: Thank you for the clothes.

Edward must’ve dropped them off already. I’d told him “first thing,” but I definitely hadn’t meant five thirty in the morning. I sent: WILL THEY WORK?

I never texted with all caps; I’d only done it last night because I was walking while texting and accidentally clicked all caps. But after her comment, I couldn’t stop myself.

She responded: Shhhhh not so loud. And yes—they’re perfect.

I texted: BTW I’LL BE THERE AT 8 TO PICK YOU UP FOR THE BREAKFAST AND Q&A

Warren and his business partner, Harry, had an all-day Q&A at the convention center that was always sold out and livestreamed by millions worldwide. I was bringing Abi for the breakfast, and then she was going to “have plans” until dinner later that night.

Her response was immediate. I’ll meet you in the convention center lobby at 8 instead. And FFS stop yelling.

I put my phone away and hopped on a treadmill, unable to look at the machine without thinking of Abi’s ridiculous story. She was a handful, which made me a little nervous about the weekend, but she’d seemed genuine when promising to keep it together.

And even though I didn’t know her, or trust her, I believed her about that.

Warren had already texted （he got up at three thirty every morning）， asking if she’d changed her mind, but I hadn’t responded. It seemed like the better move to just show up with Abi, nail the speech, then make him see the entire thing as a package of the leader I could be.

Or something like that.

I showered and changed when I was done, then drove through Scooters for a couple coffees. While I was waiting, Roman called.

“Hello?”

“I’m dying to know, Dexxie boy—tell me everything.”

I reached out and turned down the stereo. “God help me, but you were right. It worked.”

“No shit, Abi the Maid nailed Abi the Girlfriend? That sounds like a movie I’d like to watch, by the way.”

“You’re a pig, and yes,” I said, shaking my head because I knew he thought he was hilarious.

“Oh, come on, I’m funny. But she really killed it, eh?”

“She did,” I said, still in disbelief that it’d gone so well. “And you’re not going to believe this, but she’s playing the part for the entire weekend.”

“Wait.” Roman was hilariously dramatic, so he was definitely losing his shit over this ridiculous situation. “Are you telling me that Abi the Maid is going to be playing the part of Abi the Girlfriend at the shareholder weekend?”

“She is.”

“I was already looking forward to it,” he said. “But now I am fucking losing-my-shit excited.”

Roman wasn’t a shareholder, but I always got him passes to the weekend events because he was a damn social butterfly who loved all of it. “Well, be cool, okay?”

“Of course I’ll be cool,” he said. “I mean, obviously since we’re best friends I already know your girlfriend, so this’ll add legitimacy.”

“As long as you’re cool.”

“I’m always cool,” he said, then asked, “So how did you convince her? Or did sparks fly and this fake relationship is morphing into something real?”

“Hell, no,” I said, picturing her face when she told the story of how we met. Smug little shit. “I paid her.”

“You paid her? Like, with money? You gave her money to be your girlfriend?”

“Roman—”

“I’m pretty sure that means she’s—”

“A nice girl who is doing me a favor,” I interrupted, not sure why I felt the need to defend her. But I did. “And being compensated for her time.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, his tone conveying everything I hadn’t let him say. “Well, I for one think this is great. It sounds like fun and I can’t wait to meet her. You said she’s cute, right?”

For some reason, her messy hair and stupid pajamas popped into my head. “Very. A very cute pain in the ass.”

“She sounds perfect,” he said.

“Far from it, but we’re moving forward anyway. Listen, I have to run because I’m in a drive-through and it’s moving.”

“Okay. Later.”