She’d heard it a thousand times and it always made her want to smack whoever was saying it, but she was getting desperate.
“Yeah, sometimes you look scary when you smile,” Lisa pointed out. “Not when you mean it, but when you’re trying to look happier than you feel, you end up looking like you’re about to murder someone.”
So she’d been told. “I already got accused of that once today.”
Lisa laughed at the thought. “I’m sure it was Gene. He believes the world is way more murdery than it actually is. I think we need to talk about how to introduce you to the town. We made a mistake by not bringing you in earlier and having a nice long transition period. Now, while Zep is not discerning about who he sleeps with at night, he does know the town, and he’s right about a few things. I think the two of us having a girls’ day at Miss Marcelle’s could be helpful.”
“I had my hair cut before I came here.” She wasn’t due for another one for at least six weeks.
“Then we’ll get some highlights,” Lisa replied. “Or a manicure.”
She’d had that done, too. “I don’t need . . .”
Her sister interrupted her. “We’re going with the flow, Lila. The flow.”
Apparently the flow had highlights. She’d never had highlights, wasn’t sure she wanted highlights. But she did want patients. “I can try it. But I don’t know about the fake-date thing.”
“Think about it. Remy’s got a couple of friends. They’re nice guys. Rene Darois might be right up your alley. Not that you’re looking for a boyfriend. I understand that. Rene knows the town and he would totally understand that this plan could work. And who knows, you might like him. You’ve got a lot in common. He’s highly educated.”
“You talking about Rene?” Lisa’s massive, muscular Cajun husband stood at the table, two big bowls in his hands. He set one down in front of her. “What’s going on with him?”
Lisa smiled up at her man as she accepted her dinner. “I’m plotting and Rene might be a piece of the plan. The man meat, as your old boss would say.” Lisa leaned over with a conspiratorial wink. “Remy used to be man meat.”
The bowl in front of Lila contained rice and sausage and some stuff she wasn’t sure about.
But it smelled pretty good. She usually didn’t eat rice. Not because she didn’t like it. Mostly because she liked it too much.
Why shouldn’t you eat it every now and then? Her life had become one long denial. She called it discipline, but it was starting to feel like something else.
Can’t you see you’re punishing yourself? The problem is there’s no need for you to punish yourself. You make everything worse by doing it because the reason you’re denying yourself anything that might make you happy is irrational. You should be living a good life to honor your friend. Not this half-life you seem to insist on.
That could have come straight out of her brother’s mouth. Maybe she’d left Dallas to get away from Will. He sounded far too much like her therapist.
“You think she should pretend to date Rene? I’m not saying he won’t do it,” Remy was saying. “He funds that clinic. If she can’t win over the town, he’ll be the one everyone complains to. But I think she would be far better off with Armie.”
Armie. Armand. Sheriff LaVigne, of the broad shoulders and sexy lips.
Lisa wrinkled her nose. “Really? I don’t see it, babe. I know my sister. She’s more interested in intellectuals. Armie is not her type.”
Because intensely gorgeous and manly wasn’t her type. Because she wasn’t interested in sex. That’s basically what her sister was saying. Not that Lila blamed her. She’d scheduled gifts to herself and she’d also scheduled sex. She’d read somewhere that normal couples had sex once a week. Friday had been their sex night.
“I’m not going to fake date anyone.” It was a terrible idea. “But I will try to fit in better. I’ll go to the hair salon. I’ll eat where you tell me to. I’ll help out where I can and I’ll smile when it’s appropriate, and I’ll make sure it’s not a murder smile.”
Remy’s face split into the most glorious grin. “Oh, now I’m interested. This is going to be far more fun than I thought it would. I’m going to go save my wife some bread pudding. She gets cranky without her dessert. Can I save you some?”
If she didn’t eat rice, she actively ran from desserts. “Sure. I’ll give it a try.”
Discipline hadn’t made her happy. No. That was wrong. Discipline had gotten her the education she’d always wanted. It had gotten her the job she loved. It had lifted her and her siblings out of poverty. Discipline wasn’t the problem. Self-denial and guilt were the problems. Insecurity was the problem. Closing herself off from everything and everyone so no one could hurt her was the problem.