Faking It with My Ex's Best Friend novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Robe

Candice wears Lainey's own robe in Trevor's apartment, and Lainey overhears their plan. Over breakfast Trevor puts a pen and a gift letter in front of her.

"You're Candice," I said. "You've got a nice voice."

Her shoulders loosened.

"I'm your best friend," she said. "We met in a pharmacology class."

"Wow," I said. "That sounds like me."

I watched her breathe out through her nose.

Four hours later I was at the bottom of Trevor's stairs again.

Cade had driven us in his truck and stayed in the lobby, holding my bag.

"I'll check on you tomorrow," he said, loud enough for Trevor to hear.

Trevor clapped his shoulder.

"Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver."

Cade's jaw moved once.

"Sure," he said.

I looked up the three flights.

The second landing was the one with the dent in the wall at shoulder height.

I had hit it.

I put my good hand on the rail and started up.

Trevor stayed one step behind me, murmuring, "Careful, baby, careful."

Nothing he said made me feel safer.

The apartment smelled like his cologne and Candice's perfume.

I had never noticed they were the same smell.

The blinds were drawn, and my cake box sat on the counter, flat and empty.

I opened the fridge for water.

On the middle shelf sat the cake, its lid dented, and one blue candle still stuck through the frosting.

Trevor appeared beside me and shut the door with his hip.

"You don't need that," he said.

"What is it?"

"Just old leftovers."

He steered me to the bedroom.

A robe hung on the closet door, a pink waffle-knit one.

It was mine.

I had left it here in August, and I had not seen it since.

Candice came out of the bathroom, tying it at her waist.

She was barefoot, and her hair was wet.

"Oh, did I take your robe?" she said. "I'm so sorry, Lainey. I'm sleeping over to help."

"It's fine," I said.

"You're a sweetheart. You always say that."

"Do I?"

I smiled at her until she looked away.

That night Trevor brought me tea and a pill and tucked the blanket around my feet.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said. "I don't want to crowd you."

"Thank you."

"Anything." He kissed my hair.

He shut the door, and then it was quiet.

I lay still and counted to a hundred.

Then I reached for my phone on the nightstand, thumbed open the voice memo and pressed the red circle.

I slid out of bed and set my ear against the door.

The kitchen was across the hall.

"She's out cold," Trevor said. "She took the pill."

"Is she?" Candice said. "Because she looked right at me today and I swear..."

"You're paranoid. The doctor wrote it down. Retrograde, with a capital R."

A cupboard slammed.

"Fine," Candice said. "What's the plan?"

"We get her to sign the letter. Monday, before the follow-up."

"What letter?"

"The one that says the forty-two was a gift. Everybody signs one for a startup, it's nothing. She'll sign anything I put in front of her. She always does."

My thumb pressed down on the phone until it hurt.

"And if it comes back?" Candice said. "If one day she wakes up and remembers me on the couch?"

Trevor laughed, low and easy.

"Then she's a woman who fell down the stairs and believes crazy things. I have the doctor. I have her best friend. I have the word 'engaged' in her own file."

"You're awful."

"You love it."

I heard a kiss.

It lasted long enough for me to count the red numbers on my phone.

The recording saved.

I went back to bed without making a sound.

The phone lay under my pillow with the memo still running.

I looked at the dark ceiling and my face stayed wet for a minute or two.

Then I put my grandmother's face in my head, the way she had looked the day she signed the check over, and I stopped.

Sunday morning, Trevor made eggs.

The kitchen was bright, and he hummed.

Candice sat on a stool in my robe, buttering toast, and I sat across from them with my brace on the table.

Trevor set a plate down in front of me.

Then he took a manila envelope off the counter and laid it on the table beside the plate.

He put a blue pen on top of it.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just a few forms for the taproom. The bank wants them."

I looked at the envelope.

On the first page, in black type, was the word GIFT.

"Sign where I flagged it," he said gently.

Candice stopped chewing.

Both of them looked at my right hand, which could not hold a pen.

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