Page 9 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year

“Call a truce,” she went on. “A détente.”

“A what?” Now he sounded upset.

“It means a cease-fire—”

“I know what détente means. What I don’t know is why you and I need one.”

He couldn’t be serious? Of course not. Ethan was never serious.

Deborah had asked her once why she hatedhim so much, and the answer had been easy: Ethan Wyatt wasn’t a person—he wasa persona. A social media feed brought to life. A human sound bite comprised of charming quips and clever banter, carefully constructed to make people fall in love before they got bored enough to swipe.

He was pretend. An illusion. A lie. Maggie had known him for five years, and they’d never had a single conversation. Not one. Not until...

A memory landed, unbidden, in Maggie’s mind and she rushed to shake it off, while, across the aisle, Ethan blinked.

“I’m a little confused, Marcie, my dear—”

“Maggie,” she forced out.

“Why are you acting like we’re enemies?”

“Why are you acting like we’re friends?”

“What...”

“Either we’re”—Maggie made a gesture—“finger-gun buddies—”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing.”

“—or we’re not. But please don’t try to gaslight me into thinking we’re friends when you don’t even know my name.”

“Marcie...”

“My name is Maggie.” She died a little when her voice cracked. “It has always been Maggie, and if you can’t remember that, just don’t call me anything at all. Please.”

For a moment, all he did was stare. And blink. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious! Just like I was serious at the American Library Association when I told you I didn’t want your sticker.”

“How was I supposed to know that adhesive allergies are a real thing?”

“And I was serious at the Edgars when I told you—”

“Hey! The fire marshal said that could have happened to anyone.”

“And at ThrillerCon? What about what happened at ThrillerCon?”

“One: I think shorter hair looks great on you. And two—”

“I can never go back to Houston!”

He had the nerve to rollhis eyes. “Of course you can go to Houston. Murder by the Book would have you. Do you want me to call Johnnie? I can call Johnnie.”

She couldn’t even look at him. “And Tucson...”

The plane leveled off and the cabin lights went dim and Maggie wished she could pull the words back.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about Tucson.” His voice was soft and low, and the bad part was that he wasn’t lying, wasn’t teasing. The worst part was that it was true.