She nods. "It took a lot of balls to do what you did. But people love an authentic voice and that" —she nods toward the phone— "is the fucking pinnacle of authenticity. Even more than your previous lovey-dovey video which, by the way, also seemed pretty damned genuine."
"Because it was. They both were. And yes, ultimately, I am media savvy, so I went with my gut. I didn’t plan to post when I took off my wig. I didn’t warn Liam."
"He does look taken aback in the post," she concedes.
"Only because I didn’t tell him that’s what I was going to do."
She frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, he already knew about my… alopecia." See? It does get easier. At least, I can admit it aloud in the privacy of my friend’s apartment. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to say it in front of the world.
"He did?" She blinks.
"He had me investigated. Turns out, he knows a lot more about me than I know about him."
"Okay, hold on a second…" She puts distance between us. "He knew you had alopecia all along?"
I nod.
"And he never let on?"
I shake my head.
"And you never guessed that he knew?"
"No." I throw up my hands. "I mean, I was so stressed about him finding out—not that I wasn’t going to tell him, but I wanted to do it in my own time. So I was trying my best to hide it from him all this time.”
"And I want to ask, why? Why would you want to keep it from him?"
Because the marriage between us started out as farce.I rub my temple. "Initially, it was because I didn’t know him and I wasn’t sure if I could trust him. Later, it was because I was worried he’d find me wanting. I suppose, on some level, I felt he was so handsome and I was so ugly. I was scared of being judged and found inferior."
She stares at me.
My flush deepens. "Fine, I know what you’ll say. Exactly what he said. Don’t give away my power."
"Huh? Mr. Dickwad actually makes sense sometimes."
"Don’t call him Dickwad, and he makes sense most of the time."
Her lips quirk, then she wipes the smile off her face.
"Why are you smiling that snide smile of yours?"
"I’m not smiling."
This time, she curves her lips and doesn’t even bother to hide it.
"See?" I stab my finger in her direction, "You are smiling."
"Okay, you’ve got me." She holds up both of her hands, palms facing me. "So, I’m assuming Doucheca— I mean, your husband—told you not to give away your power. But all this time, he knew about your secret."
I nod.
"So he knew about it, but it didn’t bother him. And he didn’t push you to mention it. And he didn’t confront you with it, either?"
"Y-e-s," I say slowly.
"But you’re pissed at him because you were expecting him to be shocked at your appearance when you pulled your big reveal and he wasn’t."