Page 28 of Mistaken Identity
“Kory is a closet stalker. He looks up her Facebook and Instagram accounts every five minutes. Or he would if she had social media. He types her name into his search bar every day,” he explained. “I got worried, and I wanted to make sure that you kept playing along with the boyfriend thing. Maybe he’ll back off. Also, I changed your Facebook and Instagram photo to a picture of you two from tonight.”
I glanced over at him. “We didn’t take a photo together.”
“You kind of did.” He shrugged. “I changed it because he’s already looked up your social media. He found your business page.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’ll find a bunch of nothing.”
“I know, which was why I put that personal picture of you two up as your profile picture on your business page,” he said.
“How would that relate to plumbing in any way?” I wondered.
Not that I cared.
I barely ever got on there. My front office ran the page and updated it from time to time to make it look like the business had a social media presence.
“You’re a family business. You have a kid and a new girlfriend. People eat that shit up.”
That was another thing.
In for a penny…
“That’s another thing I need to talk to you about, Webber, but I’m going to wait just a bit longer,” I said carefully.
I knew that I needed to let everything hang out there.
Maybe they could help me figure out this situation while I figured out other things…
Other more scary, life changing, I have to fix it now, things.
Not that the Cakes/Lottie thing wasn’t important.
It was.
But fuck.
I needed to talk to Creole first.
I found her on the beach overlooking the ocean.
Molokini Crater could be seen on the edge of the horizon, and I wondered if she’d ever been out that far to visit the area.
Or if she just flew in and flew right back out.
I knew that today was out of the norm for her when she flew. I had no doubt in my mind that she didn’t have many friends, and her going to a wedding like this was likely the first one she’d ever been to besides mine and Laney’s.
I sat down beside her, giving her plenty of space now that I knew why she needed that space, and said, “Have you ever been snorkeling there?”
Het brows furrowed. “Snorkeling where?”
I indicated the crater with a tilt of my head. “There.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Your house is beautiful.”
“It’s not my house,” I said. “This one is a friend’s.”
A friend that I’d met in the Army.
We’d bonded over both of our grandfathers having died during the attack on Pearl Harbor.
