“Two years,” I said.
Beatrice blinked.
“Two years? Goodness! That’s a long time to have a roommate.”
“I’m not his roommate. I’m his…”
Everett suddenly interrupted.
“Rosalie, could you help me in the kitchen?”
He hurried me out of the room.
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered.
“Please, Rosalie. Not like this.”
“Not like what? We’ve been married for two years!”
“I know. Just don’t say anything until she leaves. I’ll explain everything tonight.”
I couldn’t believe he was asking me to pretend I wasn’t his wife.
Before I could argue, Beatrice called from the living room.
“Everett, honey! Have you and your fiancée picked a wedding date yet? You said you were thinking about spring!”
I froze.
Fiancée?
I walked back into the living room.
“I’m sorry. What wedding are you talking about?”
Beatrice looked surprised.
