“If this is all a ploy to get a blank slate with her and Cillian, I’d say you’re one down, one to go.”

“It’s not!”

“If it were, it’s not a terrible idea.”

“Well, it’s not. Also, what’s the play that’s happening this weekend?”

“Did she tell you about that as well?”

“No. I met some woman at the coffee shop after she left. She had a huge dog and his name was Bernard? Or, no, the husband’s name was Bernard.”

“Ah, Bernard and Sara. She’s a busybody, but she’s harmless. Mae West is the one you have to look out for. You’ve never experienced anything like being surprise-humped by a female dog that’s bigger than you.”

“Gross.”

“Pfft. You’re telling me. That dog happens to like me quite a lot.”

“So do I not act? Even though there’s a theater here and plays going on?”

“Afraid not.”

“Why not? Do I suck?”

“No! Not at all.”

I can tell she’s not saying something, so I ask, “What?”

She moves her head from side to side and then says, “You sort of act like it’s beneath you.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m the worst.”

She nods tightly. “You’re not as big a dick as you sound, I promise. And I mean, I get it. It’s a little playhouse, that’s hardly the same as walking the red carpet.”

“I am an absolute brat.”

“You’re not a brat.” She steels herself. “You’re insecure, I think.”

I get the feeling it’s something she’s never said to other-me.

I nod. “Sounds like it. Is Aimee involved in the play?”

“Yeah, she’s the director.”

“Wow.” So I wasn’t that far off when I came up with the other fake life for her. I mean, far off in that community theatre isn’t the same as Broadway, but it was headed in the right direction.

“Yeah, the show this weekend is one of her own. There’s some big critic coming in from The Guardian, so she’s hoping for a good review. She’s always hoping for a good review, obviously, but if she gets one this time, and from a critic like that, then it could make her career. I think she’s really nervous.”

“Wow. That’s huge. And what does Theo do?”

“Theo recently got made redundant and he’s having trouble finding a new job.”

I laugh derisively. “That feels typical.”

“It’s not really his fault,” she says earnestly. “He’s not as bad a lad as you seem to think he is.” Her phone rings and she pauses our conversation to answer it.