Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I… I… don’t know… know…” Then he blurted out the rest. “If you remember me.”
Before he could even say his name, Mathilda jumped up from her chair and rushed around the table. “Rolly. Oh my goodness. I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?” Then she threw her arms around Fernsby and hugged him.
Troy, his dropped jaw now firmly back in place, whispered to Michaela, “Rolly? That’s Fernsby’s first name?” His tone added a couple of extra question marks. “Holy hell. It’s a nickname.”
Michaela looked from Fernsby to Mathilda then back to Troy. “Don’t you know his first name?”
“None of us know his first name. Not even Dane. I wasn’t sure he even had a first name. I don’t know his age or exactly where he’s from in England.”
“Well, someone’s got to know,” Michaela insisted. “Doesn’t he get a W-2 at the end of the year?”
Troy snorted. “You think Dane fills out the W-2 himself? All that information is under lock and key with the payroll service.” Maybe he needed to break into the payroll office and discover the truth.
But Michaela was saying, “Well, Mathilda Sullivan obviously knows.”
Mathilda returned to her seat behind the table. Was Fernsby’s hand shaking as he handed her his book to sign? Troy had never before seen the man out of sorts like this. Not even when he was on Britain’s Greatest Bakers and waiting to find out if he’d won. But with Mathilda Sullivan, he stammered and he shook.
She slid the book back across the table to Fernsby and said, “I’d take you out to dinner so we can catch up, but I’ve already agreed to dine with the store manager and my publicist after the signing.” She rolled her eyes like a teenager. “Along with several people I don’t even know. Then I’m flying out straightaway for the next venue.” She pulled a card from the stack at her elbow. After writing on the back, she gave it to Fernsby. “Rolly, this is my personal mobile. Please call me.”
Behind them, the fans were getting restless, rumbles of annoyance that Mathilda was spending so much time with the first two people in line. The red-faced guy who’d complained that they were cutting mumbled loudly, steam practically coming out of his ears. In a few minutes, they might have a riot on their hands.
But Fernsby was already stepping away, his signed book clutched in one hand, Mathilda’s card in the other. Moving to the side, letting the red-faced angry guy approach the table, Fernsby opened the book, taking a few moments to read what Mathilda had written. Eyes on the page, he stood for so much longer than it should have taken to read the inscription. Then finally, he came to them where they stood out of the way against a bookshelf along the wall.
Troy wasn’t about to let him have a minute to compose himself. “Rolly? Your name is Rolly? What’s that short for?”
But Fernsby, already having pulled himself together, said in his usual stern, cultured British voice, “Ms. Sullivan didn’t say Rolly. She said ‘my boy.’”
Troy eyed him. “I’m pretty sure she said Rolly.” He touched Michaela’s arm for confirmation. And because he wanted to. “Right?”
Michaela held up her hands. “I’m not sure. It could have been either.”
Troy snorted and didn’t let up. “So you know her?”
Fernsby’s drawl was holier than thou. “Of course we know each other. We’re both British.” As if all British people knew each other.
Troy wouldn’t give up. “But you,” he stressed, “know her.”
Fernsby didn’t even blink. “‘Know’ is relative, sir. We were acquainted many years ago. I’m quite surprised the lady remembered me.” Then he blew them off completely. “Now we must leave to allow room for other fans to come in.”
Troy had to admit the line was snaking in between tables and past bookshelves, then finally out the door. There were so many more fans than they could even see.
Outside, the line was still all the way around the block. Troy would have tackled Fernsby again, except that Michaela’s stomach rumbled. Not just a rumble, but a gigantic grumble that seemed to go on and on. She put her hand to her belly. “Sorry. I didn’t get a chance to eat before I came up here.”
Troy forgot all about Mathilda Sullivan, Rolly, and Fernsby. Here was his chance. “There’s a great Thai place around the corner. Want to grab something to eat before you go home?”
Without even taking a breath, she said, “No.”
He couldn’t let her get away with that. “I literally heard your stomach growling. Can we just go and have some pad thai?”
Then her stomach rumbled again, and he could almost read her thoughts. She didn’t want to look like an idiot. “Pad thai would be nice,” she conceded.
He thought of the evening ahead, just the two of them, sitting together in a restaurant. It would seem so casual. But if he asked for a corner booth in the back where the lights were low, it could be the most amazing romantic dinner he’d ever had.