“Turns out Molly and Aggie are one and the same person. Aggie is her pseudonym.”
“It has to be a mistake.” Daniel stood up and paced to the window, his brain racing. No, it couldn’t be possible. She would have mentioned it. After everything they’d shared, she would have mentioned it. Wouldn’t she?
He thought about the times she’d changed the subject when he’d asked about her work. The times he’d probed for a little more information and got nothing back.
She’d told him she was a psychologist but she had never given him specifics.
He kept his back to the room. “Tell me.”
“It’s in the file. Or I could call Max and he could—”
“I want you to tell me.” Although part of him didn’t want to hear it. For the first time in his life he was enjoying a relationship with a woman, and now it turned out she wasn’t who she said she was.
He could respect her desire to protect patient confidentiality, but he knew that wasn’t what was going on here. The issue was that she didn’t trust him. He’d trusted her with personal information about himself, about his past, that he’d never shared with anyone before but she hadn’t been willing to return the gesture.
He didn’t turn, just listened as Marsha read from the report.
“She has a postgraduate degree from Oxford. Her blog, Ask a Girl, currently has 8 million hits a week—” She broke off as Daniel uttered an expletive. “Yes, she’s popular. Her first book, Mate for Life, sold over half a million copies in the first two weeks of sale, and her second book—”
“Wait—” He dragged his hand through his hair. That was why she had a copy of the book in her apartment. She hadn’t bought it for advice. She’d written the damn thing.
Slowly, his image of her changed shape.
Do you deal with relationships in your work?
Yes.
He turned to find Marsha was watching him as she might watch an escaped tiger, unsure whether to say more.
Daniel clenched his jaw. “Go on.”
“She’s just signed another book deal with Phoenix Publishing, but the details haven’t been announced yet.”
“Phoenix? They’re the people who wanted me to write a book on surviving divorce?”
“That’s right. Do you want to know the rest?”
“No.” He’d already heard more than enough. What he needed now was a conversation with “Aggie.” Or Molly. Or whoever the hell she really was.
How could they be one and the same person? One of them he wanted to have sex with, and the other he wanted to strangle with his bare hands.
He’d thought Aggie was an ignorant charlatan, and in fact she was a smart, professional woman.
The coffee Marsha had brought in earlier sat untouched and forgotten on his desk.
Why wouldn’t she mention that she worked as an advice columnist? Why so secretive? It didn’t make sense. He was confused, and underneath the confusion was outrage. She’d accused him of deception, but her deception was greater than his. All he’d done was borrow a dog. She was concealing an entire identity.
Marsha was still watching him. “Are you angry for professional reasons or personal reasons?”
He thought of Molly naked, laughing down at him. Then he remembered the way she’d listened to him that night on the balcony.
She had a way of encouraging people to talk, without doing any talking herself.
“Professional.” He spoke through his teeth. “It’s professional. Wasn’t I invited to a party at Phoenix Publishing?”
“Cocktails at the Met tonight. You told me to make your excuses.”
“Un-excuse me. I’m going.”