“You know…” Paige gives a sympathetic tilt of her head. “I could see if Alex knows anyone for you. I’m sure one of his colleagues from work would be happy to take you out.”

“No need,” I say through my teeth.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I’m sure.”

She shrugs like she thinks I have made a tragic error in judgment by not accepting a pity date from her husband. It’s not the first time she’s offered. After a few times, you would think she’d get the message I’m not interested, but sadly, she has not.

“Anyway.” Paige thrusts the Manila envelope at me, her bright red fingernails shining under the overhead lights. “Here’s the proof of your new book.”

I accept the envelope from her grasp. I’m tempted to rip it open. This book is the culmination of two years of research and late nights spent poring over my notes and pounding on the keyboard. But I don’t want to look at it in front of Paige. I’ll do it after she leaves.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Gruesome stuff,” she comments, crinkling her nose. She made no secret of the fact that she thought I should “tone down” some of the violent scenes described in the book, but I was adamant they should stay as is. “It’s hard to read—for some people.”

“It’s all true.”

Paige eyes the envelope in my hand. She was hoping I would open it in front of her. She drove all the way up here from Manhattan after all. It’s no small trip to Westchester, but my first book, Know Yourself, was on the New York Times bestseller list for twenty-seven weeks. This highly anticipated follow-up could be worth a fortune to her. She wants to keep me happy.

She stands there for a moment, waiting to see if I’ll offer her a tour or perhaps a cup of coffee. She wants to be my friend. Or at least, she wants a pretend friendship, where we gossip, do lunch at a café, and act as though we don’t dislike one another.

I don’t have friends. I never have.

“Could I…” She licks her lips. “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

I throw a glance toward my kitchen. “Of course. The water is a bit brown though, I have to warn you. I’ve gotten used to the metallic taste, but it bothers some people.”

Her nose crinkles again. She has the faintest hint of freckles on the bridge, no doubt covered by several layers of makeup. “Brown water? Adrienne, you should have somebody take a look at that.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It tastes fine. Let me grab that water for you.”

“Actually, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”