Page 3 of Best Served Cold

“You’re worried I’m going to believe him,” I say flatly.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s persuaded you to go along with his BS before.”

Just then, the phone buzzes again. I drop it like it’s a hot potato and the music just stopped.

Otis meets my gaze, sighs, and grabs it.

He checks the screen and flinches. “Uh. I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s another one.”

“What?” I squawk.

He hands it over, and I take it with a shaking hand. It’s a conversation with “SilverStarBabe.”

Do you have time to get breakfast after your meeting? I know you’ve been busy, but I’ve barely seen you for weeks.

My therapist says we need to find ways to reconnect.

I glance at Otis in disbelief. “How is this happening? Is this a bad dream? Jonah told me just this morning that he can’t wait to wife me.”

He grimaces.

“He was being sweet,” I say automatically, because defending Jonah to Otis and my aunt has become a reflex. Shaking my head, I say, “No, it was stupid. But…seriously. Is this a dream? I don’t understand…”

He reaches out, and I’m about to hand the phone to him so he can take a second look when he pinches my arm instead.

“Ow,” I cry out. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” he says, nearly fumbling his beer. “Just wanted to make sure. You know, I’m surprised too. I never would have thought Jonah had this much game. He owns five pairs of Crocs, and he thinks Africa’s a country.”

“So did you,” I point out. I was the one who’d filled them both in. Otis had taken it with his customary easy acceptance, but Jonah had given me the cold shoulder all day.

You don’t need to correct people, Sophie. You’re not a teacher.It was a barb he’d known would hurt, since the dream I’d abandoned was opening a crafting business with classes for young children.

Jonah’s like that sometimes. He can be sweet and so adoring, but he can also be a bit of…

Well, a jerk.

I’ve told myself he’s just not good at reading other people’s emotions. Some people are naturally empathetic, and others need to be reminded, constantly, that other people have feelings. I’m a type one, and he’s a type two. No big deal. But maybe I was making excuses for him because I was desperate to hold onto the only silver lining I had.

I swallow, trying to regain control of my emotions. “So, we think Jonah has been cheating on me, right? Like…possibly with more than one person. There’s no other explanation?”

That would mean the man I’d fallen in love with didn’t exist. That he was a fantasy created to fool me.

Butwhywould he do that?

If he wants to flounce around town screwing everyone, why have a girlfriend at all, let alone a fiancée?

Otis gives a sympathetic shrug before admitting, “I don’t think there’s an innocent explanation, but maybe you should, you know, see if there are any otherbabessaved on that app.”

I look and then gasp, because there’s one more.

“There’s another,” I choke out. “GingerBeerBabe.”

“Oh man, that’s shitty. I think you need to text all of them.”

“The women?” I ask, my voice quavering. “What would I even say?”

He shrugs again, then runs his hand through his shoulder-length light-brown hair. “I don’t know, but you deserve the full story, and that dude’s not going to be honest with you. When he found out I like disc golfing, he claimed he held a local record, but he doesn’t even know what disc golfing is. He saw my pack and asked why I had so many frisbees.”

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