My pulse slowed, not from calm, but from an icy lucidity. “Linda,” I said cautiously, “why exactly do you think I’m Mason’s wife?”
She frowned as if I had asked an absurd question. “Because you got married last year. In court. Mason said you did it discreetly for tax reasons.”
The room seemed unstable.
I looked at Mason. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t deny it. He just swallowed.
My voice broke. “Mason… tell her the truth. Tell her we’re not married.”
Linda’s self-assurance is misleading. “Huh?”
I approached, my hands trembling. “We’re not married,” I repeated clearly. “There was no civil ceremony. There’s no marriage certificate. I have nothing.”
