“Brian isn’t my boyfriend. He never has been, and he never will be. And I never wrote anything down with him. This conversation is over.” She pushed him on the chest. “Now, get the hell out of here, idiot.”

He leaned forward and whispered, “Do you know what I’ve been wondering all this time? Did you choose Brian especially for this? Did you think, Hey, look, a bad boy, exactly what I need? Had you already made up your mind to use him when you let him bang you at the Horn of Plenty?”

She lifted her hands to her mouth. Froze.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” crowed Ralf. He took a step back and folded his arms.

“That piece of shit.”

Until now, Ralf had been wondering if she had taken acting lessons or if she was just a natural liar, but from the way she was looking at him now, he could detect nothing but shame. It confused him.

“He promised he wouldn’t tell anybody,” she said quietly.

“Well,” he sneered, “you probably could have guessed in advance that he wasn’t very trustworthy, couldn’t you?” He was fed up with this whole charade, so he pulled the notes out of the envelope. Held them in front of her nose. “Recognize these?”

She ducked backward and started to read them. Her eyes flitted from left to right. Ralf watched her expression change—her eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh my God. Do you know whose handwriting that is?” She tried to snatch the paper from his hand, but he pulled it back and held it out of her reach.

“Whose?”

Her shocked expression had given way to complete bewilderment. “But that can’t be right,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

“Whose?” he repeated.

“Let me see the rest.” She grabbed the envelope from his other hand and pulled out the rest of the notes. Fell back onto the bed and examined the photos. “Am I going crazy?” she whispered.

21

21

“This will be the death of me,” laughed Helen.

The waiter had already brought them some tea, and he now returned with a stand laden with sweet treats. He cleared a space for it on the round table between Werner and Helen, put it down, and disappeared with a bow.

Helen could smell how sweet they were. “These cakes must be six hundred calories each.”

“No way,” replied Werner.

“How much, then? Seven hundred?”

“Wait; let me check.” Werner picked up a cake from the bottom of the stand and took a bite. “At least a thousand,” he said with his mouth full.

“Jeez. And we’re going to dinner after this.”

“Don’t think about it.” He passed Helen a petit four.

It tasted divine. Cream, caramel. A little salt too. Sweet, rich, and gooey. “Goodness,” she said once she’d finished. She had an immediate hankering for a second.