Of course. The For Sale sign. Caroline Mackey, agent. I got out of the car and took a flyer out of the box attached to the sign. White, white, white, bronze, pink, brown, pink.

Without giving it another thought, I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“Caroline here,” a voice sang into the receiver after the first ring.

“Um, hi. I’m wondering if you can show me a house?” I felt squeaky, so I cleared my throat, tried to make my voice sound deeper, more mature.

“Of course. Which house were you wanting to see?”

“Two-fifty-seven Noble,” I said. I scanned the paper in my hand. “Three bedroom, two bath? Great starter house?”

“Oh, of course! Yes, it is a perfect starter house. And your name is?”

“Carrie,” I blurted. I’d never used my mother’s name before, and the move took me by surprise. I fumbled for a last name, then said the first thing that came to mind. “Carrie Martinez.” Surprise number two. I was full of them today. “We, um, I’m a newlywed, and we’re, um, looking.” I squeezed my eyes tight. I sounded like such a liar, even to myself.

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. If I sounded like a liar, she was ignoring it. “Can you be at the address in an hour?”

I stuffed the paper back in its box. “Sure.”

I HAD AN hour to convince Chris to join me.

I drove until I found a nearby coffee shop and sat at a table by the window, which overlooked a busy boulevard.

Hey, I texted.

No response. I sipped my coffee while I waited. After several minutes, I texted again.

I don’t suppose you want to pretend to be my husband for an hour?

I knew he was mad at me, but surely that would get him talking. Surely it would at least make him curious. But the minutes ticked by and there was nothing. I tried again.

You can’t stay mad at me forever.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, and then, just when I was about to text again, this:

I’m not mad. I’m busy. You will have to find someone else to play actor with you.

I could feel the bite in his words, even through the phone. He may have been saying he wasn’t mad, but he was 100 percent lying.

Come on. You know you’re my favorite actor.

Nothing. So much nothing I started to actually get irritated. I was out of coffee and out of patience and it was going to be a hell of a lot harder to pretend I had a good reason to be looking at this house if I was alone. I dialed his number and got voice mail.