Page 129 of Relationship Goals

Right. I clear my throat, deciding to take a different tack.

“Did you put that on yourself? It’s really impressive. Gross, I mean, but it’s, uh, something else.”

Chasing away the forlorn, miserable look in her mismatched eyes is the only thing I want to do right now.

“No, Darren did it.” She shoves her plate away from her, her biryani barely touched.

“Darren?” I ask. Jealousy stirs in me, and I grit my teeth to keep from saying something pigheaded.

“My makeup artist. You met him the other night—” Her jaw drops, then shuts.

“I did?” I ask, flummoxed.

“Never mind us, preciouss,” she hisses, back in character. “Give us a kiss, my beauty.”

My lip curls in disgust, because the last thing I want to do is kiss whatever the hell this thing is—but it’s also Abigail.

My Abigail.

“All right,” I say easily, carefully placing my fork on the edge of the plate. “I’d love a kiss.”

To my surprise, she makes a noise of pure distaste.

“Sorry.” Abigail coughs. “I’m not really hungry.” She coughs again.

“It’s impossible to read you under that makeup,” I tell her.

“Well, then don’t try to. Let’s go watch the movie.” Without so much as a backward glance, Abigail practically sprints from the room.

I stare at the uneaten food on her plate while I shovel the rest of mine in my mouth. After emptying her biryani back into the take-out container and setting the rest of the leftovers in her fridge, I splay my palms on the cool stone surface of her kitchen counters.

What the hell is going on with her?

Maybe it’s the pressure of her new role, and this little playacting thing is part of how she’s blowing off steam.

Still.

I can’t get her deep, defeated look of sadness off my mind. The defensiveness when I asked about it, the anger right there along with it—I know something is wrong.

I would do anything to help her through whatever it is. If that means putting up with her…odd impression tonight, then that’s what it means.

Anything to help her smile again.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Abigail

Princess won’t stopgrowling at me. Her little back is arched, her tail completely fluffed up.

It makes me feelawful.

Not that I felt great to begin with, some of my malicious glee evaporating as Luke continues to be his usual self. I also just kind of feel…off. Not hungry, which is strange. A little out of it.

Maybe I just need to amp up the weirdness.

He sits with his arm around me, watching the film with interest.

On the same couch where I found out all of his lies only a week ago. I’m so tired and I’m starting to feel like shit.