“So, where is she?” David asked as he snapped pictures of the wedding guests arriving at the church. He’d mentioned he was hired for a wedding this weekend and I thought, what better place for Elodie and I to have some fun? Since the happy couple said he could bring along a guest or two, I decided to invite myself.

“She said she’d meet me here,” I replied, staring up at the building. When I was little, Mum had never followed any religion, but looking at everyone gathering inside the church, I could sort of understand the appeal. There was a community here, a safety, a sense of belonging.

David arched a brow as he peered through the camera lens. “You think she got cold feet?”

“We’re not the ones getting married. She’ll be here.”

I hadn’t told David about Elodie’s true identity. In fact, I hadn’t told anyone, not even Rose. I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with people knowing her secret. It was hers to reveal should she make that decision. When I’d finally told her what I did for a living, Ellen hadn’t shown any judgement or misgiving. Instead, she’d been curious and open, asking questions, eager to learn.

I hadn’t even realised how badly I wanted her to accept me. When she did, a tension in me released.

“I’ve been invited to audition for a part on the West End,” David said casually.

I brought my attention back to him. “You have? That’s fantastic. Which role?”

He scratched his chin, took another snap. “Seems that the YouTube video raised my profile a little. They want me for the part of Judge Turpin in Sweeney Todd. They like that I’m a bass vocalist.”

“You’d be perfect for that role. I can see you now, all evil and brooding. Are you going to go for it?”

David shrugged, but I saw the edge of his mouth curve. He was definitely flattered, and I often got the sense he missed performing. “I’m definitely considering it,” he replied.

A taxi pulled up outside the church and Elodie stepped out. My gaze wandered up her shapely legs, resting on the curve of her thighs. She wore a stunning peach dress that complimented her pale skin, matching peach heels, her scarlet hair pinned to one side. I tried to figure out how she managed it with the wig, then realised this was a whole other wig. Did she have a collection? She really had gotten invested in her character.

Ellen must’ve spent a good deal of time practicing to walk in heels because her stride was effortless. She approached and David snapped a picture. The sun glinted off her green contact lenses, making them look even more striking.

“Hello, Julian and David,” she greeted and gave a little curtsey.

“Look at you! Rita Hayworth,” I said, smiling.

She gave a pleased look. “Oh, stop.”

“Hi, Elodie, it’s great to see you again,” David said, before returning his attention to his camera.

I took her hand and pulled her close so that I could whisper in her ear. “Seriously, where do you find all these amazing outfits?”

She laughed, though I did notice a few goose bumps grace her skin. Why did that please me? “I might have a bit of an online shopping addiction.”

“Well, the addiction pays off. You look incredible.”

A small, barely visible flush claimed her cheeks as she turned to take in the arriving guests. “So, who’s getting married?”

“Barry Stevens and Una Mann. I have a feeling Una’s side of the family are going to be entertaining when they get drunk at the reception.”

Her gaze followed a middle-aged couple as they walked inside. “Hmm, they do have that stick up the bum look about them. Maybe some alcohol will loosen them up.”

I grinned. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“The bride should be arriving any minute,” David interrupted. “If you two want to snag a seat at the back of the church, go ahead.”

I held out my arm and Elodie took it. I enjoyed how easily we fit together and how she smelled like coconut. “The question is, do we sit on the side of the bride or the groom?”

“We definitely don’t have sticks up our bums, best go with the groom,” she replied, and I chuckled. We took a seat at the very back. The church was almost full, and I thought this couple must’ve had some cash to splash with the number of wedding guests they’d invited. The church was also in an affluent neighbourhood and David mentioned earlier that they were local.

“Aren’t you Judy’s nephew? Alan?” the elderly woman I’d sat next to asked. I plastered on a charming smile. If Ellen could be Elodie for the day, then perhaps I could be Alan.

“Yes, how are you…”

“Margaret Adams. You probably don’t remember me. My, my, the last time I saw you was at Wendy Jones’ funeral. You must’ve only been a teenager.”

I made a sad face. “Wendy was such a nice lady.”

“Yes, I do think about her sometimes. I must say, you’ve grown up to be a handsome young man. I’ll have to tell Judy I bumped into you when she gets out of the hospital.”

“Of course, poor aunt Jude. You should go visit her. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Do you know what? Maybe I will.” She paused and gestured me closer. I bent down, aware of Elodie listening in amusement to the exchange. “Did you hear that the bride used to date the best man?”

I affected a scandalised expression. “I did not. When did they date?”

“Oh, years ago, I think. Still, can you imagine? I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes right now.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Me neither.”

Up by the alter, the groom stood next to his best man. He looked the tiniest bit nervous when the string quartet started their rendition of Ave Maria. I glanced at Elodie and found her enthralled by the ceremony. The bridesmaids, wearing lavender, Grecian style dresses, made their way up the aisle and my companion watched them with keen interest. She must’ve noticed my studying her when she glanced to the side and whispered, “I’ve never been to a wedding before.”

This surprised me. “Not even when you were a child?”

“My dad hated going to weddings. I think since Mum passed they made him sad.”

“That’s understandable.”

“It’s amazing though. The amount of effort people put in. This must’ve taken almost a year to organise.”

“Probably. But I’m sure it’s worth it when the couple finally gets to have their day.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she murmured and turned her attention to the altar. I marvelled at her wonder, a part of me wishing I could be so excited about the little things again, even if just for a day. For a while now I’d felt this expanding emptiness, but seeing the world through Elodie was a pleasant distraction.

Later on, we arrived at the hotel where the reception was being held. The room was lavishly decorated in ivory ribbons and white roses. Elodie peered at the cage of doves. She walked up and trailed her hand over the bars, whispering a quiet, “Hello.”

Her fascination with birds interested me. Most people chose dogs or cats for pets, but birds, and lovebirds in particular, was an unusual choice.

“I apologise in advance, but the bride caught wind that we’re all single and has seated us at the singles’ table,” David said regretfully as he approached.

“Don’t apologise. The singles table has all the best characters,” I replied and placed my hand to Elodie’s lower back as we walked through the room. She tensed for a second, then relaxed into it.

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” David sighed and led us to a table where three women and two men were already seated. Both men’s eyes lit up when they saw Elodie and I told myself it was a good sign, even though, admittedly, it made me a tiny bit irritated. I was becoming possessive of her. It was something that happened every once in a while. I could become attached to clients just the same as they could become attached to me. It was like a temporary love affair. Intense for a while, but eventually, it fizzled out.

Not that Elodie was a client. She was…something new entirely. I couldn’t deny there were similarities between our friendship and the sort of relationship I had with clients. A part of me wished to help her, bring her out of her shell. Another part was simply interested in her unique psychology and enjoyed spending time with her. Also, I wasn’t getting paid, so this was not a business arrangement.

I’d almost forgotten what it was like to make a new friend. So many of the ones I already had I’d known for years.

“Hi, I’m Keith, and this is Steve,” said the dark-haired man, giving Elodie his full attention. His gaze wandered from her tight dress all the way down to her sexy heels. Something in my throat tightened. I didn’t like the way he looked at her.

I did my best to shake off the feeling. I wasn’t here to be possessive of Elodie. I was here to help her develop her social skills and meet people—and enjoy myself in the process.

Elodie smiled at Keith. “Hello, I’m Elodie.” They shook hands and I watched as his hand lingered. He definitely planned on trying to sleep with her tonight.

“Beautiful name, and beautiful eyes,” he said. She tittered girlishly. I was amused at her act, now that I knew it was an act. Ellen didn’t even realise it, but she was adept at flirting. She’d lower her gaze, look away then look back. Sometimes she’d subtly touch a man’s elbow. I’d witnessed it at Branson Sutton’s birthday party, and I was witnessing it again now. I thought I was the best flirt I knew, but Ellen, when she was being Elodie, was a complete natural.

The blonde I sat next to turned and offered her hand, distracting me from my study of Elodie. “This is a good table,” she said. “One of the best I’ve had the pleasure of sitting at, and I’ve been to a lot of weddings.”

I smirked at her assessment. “And how do you evaluate a good or bad table?”

She tipped her wine glass to her lips, took a sip, then said, “I evaluate it based on the attractiveness of its occupants.”

“How very mercenary.”

“I call it how I see it. I’m Val, by the way.”

“Julian. Nice to meet you.”

“So, is the redhead your sister?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I figure two people as attractive as you are have to be related if you’re not together.”

“I disagree. And we’re just friends.”

Val didn’t look too convinced, but I only arched an elusive eyebrow. I enjoyed people who started talking to you like they already knew you. It was a ballsy way to introduce oneself.

Elodie, who sat on the other side of me, was looking around the party now, taking it all in. The bride and groom had just arrived, and everyone clapped. My phone started ringing, distracting Elodie from absorbing the scene. She was a watcher, took people in, focused on the little details. I’d caught her doing it several times now.

She looked at me and laughed, her face lighting up. It took me a second to realise what she was laughing at. My ringtone was ‘Roxanne’ by The Police. I shot her a conspiratorial grin and glanced at the screen, seeing it was my client, Cathy.

These days, I only tended to see one client at a time. More than one and I grew distracted. I stepped away to take the call, lifting it to my ear as I approached the bar and signalled to the bartender for a cranberry juice.

“Cathy, what a pleasant surprise,” I purred into the phone.

“Julian, hello. How are you?”

“All the better after hearing your voice,” I replied, lower now, seductive.

She made a breathy noise in the back of her throat. “I was wondering if you’re free tonight.”

From her tone, I suspected she was ready to take things to the next level. We’d been on several dates, but the right moment hadn’t come for us yet. My gaze went across the room to Elodie. She was laughing at something Keith said, and a fiery, burning sensation travelled up my oesophagus. I needed to get a handle on this jealousy I was feeling. It was counterproductive.

“I’m busy tonight, but how about tomorrow? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

“You have?” Cathy asked. I could hear the genuine surprise in her voice. It was one of the things I liked about her. She didn’t have an ego, didn’t take your interest for granted.

“Of course. That dress you wore the other night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“Julian,” she breathed, and I grinned as I got the reaction I’d been hoping for.

“Tomorrow night at eight. Wear something nice. I’ll text you the details of where to meet.” I hung up and slid my phone in my pocket, returning to find Elodie telling an anecdote. She had the entire table’s attention.

“We were at this bar for my brother’s thirtieth birthday. All of a sudden, the fire alarm goes off, the sprinklers come on, and we’re soaked to the skin. As expected, people panic and start pushing to get outside. I trip, fall, and bang my head on the edge of a table. When I come to, the most handsome face I’ve ever seen is directly in front of me. He asks if I’m okay. I say, I am now.” Laughter comes from those at the table. “He asks if I feel any dizziness. I tell him I think I might need mouth to mouth.” More laughter. My lips twitch in amusement. I think of how skilled she is at making up stories off the cuff, when the anecdote starts to sound familiar.

“I’m telling you, he was the sexiest fireman I’ve ever seen. I had to take a chance. So, I asked him if he’d like to get a drink after his shift. I expected him to brush me off, but miraculously, he said yes! I soon realised why. When he left me sitting in an ambulance to be checked out by paramedics, I looked down and saw that my white blouse was completely transparent, thanks to those pesky sprinklers. And I was wearing a fuchsia pink bra to boot!”

Our table mates burst into more laughter, while I narrowed my gaze. I’d heard that exact story from Rose. When she was reading, if she got to a particularly funny or exciting part, she’d tell me about it, and that story was straight out of the latest Sasha Orlando book. Rose had regaled me with it during our phone call a few nights ago.

I thought of her story about dating the stripper, Sebastian, and realised that that too was from the same series of books. Elodie was stealing her stories from fiction. I didn’t know how to feel about it. Part of my fascination with her was how she managed to make all these crazy, adventurous tales seemingly out of thin air.

Now that I knew she was plagiarizing, it took away some of the shine.