Page 22 of The Fiancée Farce
But she had no reasonable reason to protest Gemma’s plan. “Works for me.” She racked her brain, trying to think of topics they still needed to cover, discussions they needed to have. “What should I tell people if they ask how we met?”
“As long as it isn’t the truth, you can tell them anything.”
Tansy laughed under her breath. “Helpful.”
“Relax. If anyone asks, say that we met in your bookstore. I was browsing and you recognized me from the cover of a book and we bonded over a shared love of romance novels. That’s not even straying too far from the truth. See, piece of cake.”
She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a piece of cake, but she could work with it. “That sounds... reasonable.”
“Any other questions?”
Only a million, but when put on the spot, her mind blanked. “Can I get your number? In case I think of something.”
The left corner of Gemma’s mouth rose. “Already sent it to you. Send me yours.”
Tansy fished her phone from her purse and opened Instagram. She clicked on Gemma’s direct message and copied the number to her contacts before drafting a new text with her name as the message. “Done.”
Gemma smiled.
Right, then. Tansy supposed that was all there was to it. “I guess if that’s it, I’ll be in touch.”
“One last thing.”
Gemma stretched across her bed and grabbed a robin’s-egg blue box off her nightstand. She tossed it at Tansy and beamed.
“Can’t forget your ring.”
Chapter Five
“I’m telling you, it’s going to be brilliant. I’m going to knock this”—Teddy tapped his croquet mallet against a wall that already had a hole in itthanksto said croquet mallet—“wall out, and that way we’ll be able to see from the kitchen into the den. Open concept, like. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Gemma rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “I think you must be stoned out of your fucking gourd, Teddy.”
He frowned. “So, sorry, just to be clear—you’re saying youdon’tlike it?”
It was too early to be having this conversation.Anyconversation. She tried to peer past Teddy into the kitchen to see if he’d at least thought to start a pot of coffee before putting holes in the wall. “Can’t this wait?”
Teddy’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “You gave me the go-ahead to redecorate how I saw fit. No takebacks. You’re not going to be living here much longer anyway.”
Her eyes slipped shut as she counted backward from ten, trying to rein in her frustration. She loved her friends dearly—she’d be lost without them in her life—but good God, she was too old to have this many roommates. Too old and too sleep-deprived.
“I meant, can’t this wait until I’ve had my coffee? But sincewe’re having this conversation now, yes, I did say that.Redecorate.Notrenovate. Notrip out a wall.Besides”—she nodded at the wall—“I’m pretty sure that’s load-bearing.”
Teddy stared back at her blankly.
“It helps disperse the weight of the roof down to the foundation,” she explained. “If you tear it down, the ceiling might collapse.”
“Sounds like a golden opportunity for a skylight.” Teddy beamed.
“Give it up, dude.” Max snorted from the floor. A bowl of Froot Loops swimming in chocolate milk rested in front of him on the coffee table. “What did I tell you? You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”
Gemma stepped over Max’s legs, wrinkling her nose at how the flap of his boxers gaped precariously. She took a seat on the couch and poked the blanket-covered lump. “Who’s under there?”
“Ugh.” The blanket lowered and Rochelle blinked her dark brown eyes blearily. Her hair, styled in long Senegalese twists, fell across her face. “Are they still at it?”
“I’ll have you know, I have binged all seven seasons ofProperty Brothers. I am practically an expert.”
Rochelle groaned and drew the blanket up to her chin. “That answers that.”
