Curled up beside me, Gigi watches as I open the messages app. She suddenly stiffens as if someone poked her with a cattle prod. “What?” I say in concern. “Nothing.” “Gisele.” She won’t look at me, so I pry her chin up to see her face. Hurt and anger crease her pretty features. “What’s wrong?” After a drawn-out moment, during which the hostility in her eyes only intensifies, she finally taps the screen and mutters, “If you don’t want a woman to know you’re lying to her, maybe don’t flash the lies right in her face.”
