Page 63 of Perfect Assumption

“The lady would do well to be aware of your predilection for partying one night a year if things are serious. These law school reunions get quite rowdy. Last year, in fact, Ward booted all over the back of this very car.”

I cough the word “Tattletale” into my fist.

Which sets Angie off again.

“Angela Fahey, may I introduce to you our driver for tonight, my godfather, Hayden Wiltshire. He was my father’s best friend,” I clarify.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wiltshire,” Angie offers.

“Ah, none of that formality with family.”

Angie sputters, “But…”

“Make it Hayden while I tell you all the stories you won’t read in those trash magazines about my boy here.”

So on our drive to a tiny town on the edge of the Connecticut border, Hayden regales Angie with all the antics of my childhood, starting off when I challenged my mother on the belief of Santa Claus up to the day I lost my virginity. “But when he tried to sneak in through the dumbwaiter, I don’t know whether his father’s first inclination was to be impressed by his brains or to murder him for being so damn idiotic with his safety,” Hayden concludes.

Angie, having dropped the barricade she normally wears, eagerly asks me, “What did your father do?”

“Grounded me for a month,” I admit ruefully. “After my mother left the room though, he whacked me upside the head for scaring the shit out of them both and asked why I didn’t simply ask for the alarm code.”

“That’s only because you were safe, boy. He sure as hell wouldn’t have let you out of your building,” Hayden interjects.

“Who says I left the building?” And we all laugh uproariously as we pull up to the curb of a tiny little southwestern cafe. “Let me get your to-go order, Hayden. Then you can pick us up at nine?”

“Works for me. I’ve got some reading to catch up on.”

I open the door and reach for Angie’s hand. She blinks rapidly as she exits the vehicle and gets her bearings. “I know where we are. We’re in Ridgefield. I live maybe twenty minutes from here.”

“I know.”

“How?” Her voice holds a wealth of suspicion.

“I asked Carys when I called to make the car arrangements. I figured we would have dinner, and then I’d escort you home. If coming to your door isn’t all right with you, I can hang out at the gas station while Hayden drops you off. He’ll never tell me anything about your home, what you discuss. Nothing. I swear it, Angie. He’s the most trustworthy man I know.”

My heart trembles and hopes she’ll let me in just a little after I opened up myself. But she merely nods before turning toward the door, not letting me know what path we’re taking. “Why do I recognize his name?”

“He’s been in the paper some—”

“Oh, lovely.”

“—but that’s because he’s a federal judge.” The minute I finish, Angie trips over her own feet.

“You mean to tell me that for the last ninety minutes, you’ve had a federal judge driving us around?”

I take her elbow and guide her to the cafe’s entrance. “Trust me, he wasn’t kidding about the law school reunion. I think the only reason he agreed to this was because you were here. He’s still pissy about it.”

She jerks to a stop. “Ward, can I ask one question?”

“What?”

“Is this a date?” She chews down on her lip.

I pull it out. “Do you want it to be?”

“I…I’d like to try it. I remember what they’re like, but the last one wasn’t chaperoned.”

I clear my throat. “I thought you’d be more comfortable knowing we weren’t followed.” We approach the black-shirted member of the staff. “Two. Burke.”