“I’d rather surprise her.”
I frown, no longer interested in keeping up the pretense. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” She pins me with a stare. “Or are you afraid Loren needs time to practice?”
I huff a breath. “Practice what?”
“Being your wife.”
Damn.
I shake my head, racking my brain for my next move. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do, Bridger. I think you need to let Loren know I’m here so she can prepare for the performance of a lifetime.”
“You’re wrong,” I mutter.
Unfortunately, she isn’t.
“Where is your bride, by the way?” She glances toward the staircase, and it occurs to me for the first time that she may have snooped around the house before I got home, so I’d better play this perfectly. There’s no marginfor error. Loren and I have to be even more convincing to make up for whatever doubts my mom’s already harboring.
“Loren’s visiting her father,” I say.
“At Havenwood?”
My gut wrenches. Of course, Margaret Adams knows everything about Havenwood. And about Harlan. But I need a minute to strategize, so I let loose with an info-dump of facts she’s probably already read about in some dossier. I begin with a long, detailed description of the best memory-care community in the area, then shift into every single thing I know about Harlan’s condition.
When my mom’s eyes begin to glaze over, I figure I’ve done enough.
“Sorry,” I lie. “The scientist in me tends to get carried away. And the husband in me,” I add. “I really love my father-in-law.”
Now that one’s true.
My mother purses her lips. “How nice for you all.”
“I mean, FTD isn’t exactly nice, but we’ve got the best team working with him now.”
“We.”
“Yep.”
Another starchy smile finds her face. “You know, it’s almost charming.”
“What is?”
“Your devotion to strangers.”
The word slams into my chest. “My wife and her father aren’t strangers.”
“I stand corrected.”
My jaw shifts. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have bored you.”
“I wasn’t bored at all,” she says. “On the contrary, watching you is fascinating.”
We stand there facing each other, both of uscontemplating our next moves. One thing’s for sure, I won’t be her pawn.
My phone buzzes in my hand. And then again. She darts her gaze to the screen, ending the stalemate.