The Housemaid's Secret (The Housemaid, #2)

by Freida McFadden

“This is so unfair!” Amber cries. “I breastfed her for over a week! Isn’t that worth anything?”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get some sushi.” At some point, I probably also need to tell him that I don’t like sushi.

The expensive bottles are by far better than the cheap ones, but I can never detect all the subtle notes of honeydew or lavender or whatever. He keeps asking me, and now I’m lying and telling him that I can tell, but I really can’t. I’m faking wine.

“But that’s a Giuseppe Quintarelli,” he says, as if that explains absolutely anything.

You are the one who started dating this Broccoli.” I roll my eyes. “His name is Brock.”

“Broccoli is not here to help?” he sneers.

I drop my eyes. “No. That’s over.” His face falls. “I’m sorry. I know you liked the Broccoli.”

“How?” “I know a guy.” Of course he does.