Chapter 1 — The Job Nobody Expected

The advertisement had been sitting on Maya’s monitor for less than thirty seconds when she looked across the desk at Evan and said, “Absolutely not.”

Evan had known her long enough to recognize the expression. Maya worked for a staffing agency, which meant that when she looked at a computer screen that way, she had either found precisely the wrong job for someone or precisely the right job for the wrong person.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I smile.”

“Not like that.”

Maya minimized the window, which effectively guaranteed that Evan would now need to know what had been on it. He leaned across the desk and tapped the trackpad before she could stop him.

The listing returned.

EXECUTIVE SECRETARY — SIX-MONTH CONTRACT

The salary caught his attention immediately. It was nearly twice what the customer-service position they’d just discussed would pay, and the office was less than twenty minutes from his apartment.

He read farther.

Calendar management. Correspondence. Travel arrangements. Client reception. Preparing documents and presentations. Evan had done almost all of those things in his previous job.

Then he reached the final requirement.

Female applicants only, per client request.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

Maya turned the monitor away.

Evan had been unemployed for six weeks. His marketing company had lost two large clients and eliminated nearly a quarter of its staff, including him. For the first two weeks, unemployment had felt almost luxurious. By the sixth, watching his savings account diminish had transformed leisure into arithmetic.

Still, there were limits.

“I’m not applying for a job as a woman.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I absolutely was not.”

Evan looked at her.

Maya looked at Evan.

Then her eyes drifted upward toward his hair.

“No,” Evan said.

“I still haven’t said anything.”

“You don’t need to.”

His hair had been long since college, dark brown and almost straight, reaching several inches below his shoulders. It had begun as youthful rebellion and remained because he simply preferred it. Combined with his lean frame and relatively fine features, it occasionally caused strangers approaching him from behind to mistake him for a woman. Evan had always found those incidents amusing.

Maya stood and walked around him.

“Stand up.”

“No.”

“Scientific curiosity.”

“Maya.”

“Stand up.”

Ten minutes later, what had begun as a ridiculous observation had become an argument involving measurements, Evan’s bank balance and the phrase six months isn’t forever.

That evening Maya texted him.

Come over tomorrow. Claire’s helping.

Evan stared at the message.

Helping with what?

Scientific curiosity.

He should have refused.

Instead he wrote:

You’re buying dinner.

⸻

Maya’s sister Claire worked at a cosmetics counter and possessed considerably more enthusiasm for the experiment than Evan considered appropriate.

The transformation wasn’t instantaneous. That surprised him.

Claire shaved him again, then used color correction to soften the faint darkness around his jaw. Foundation followed, then subtle contouring. She cleaned beneath his brows and reshaped them just enough to alter how his eyes appeared. Eyeliner, mascara and understated shadow made those eyes seem larger.

“Don’t try to erase his face,” Claire told Maya while she worked. “That’s the mistake. We’re not building somebody else.”

Evan watched himself gradually changing in the mirror.

That observation stayed with him.

They weren’t building somebody else.

Claire styled his own hair rather than using a wig. A cream blouse and charcoal pencil skirt changed the proportions of his body, while carefully chosen undergarments provided just enough shape beneath the clothing to make the silhouette plausible.

The result wasn’t perfect.

His jaw remained a little broader than Claire’s or Maya’s. When he tilted his chin, a small prominence remained visible at his throat. His shoulders were somewhat wider than those of most women his size, and his hands looked large around the delicate handbag Maya gave him.

Yet none of those details destroyed the overall impression.

They made the person in the mirror strangely compelling.

Evan could see himself beneath her.

That was what he hadn’t expected.

He stepped closer to the mirror, studying the softened jaw, the familiar brown eyes and the throat that remained subtly masculine beneath the open collar of the blouse.

“I still look like me.”

Claire smiled. “Of course you do.”

“I thought I’d look like I’m wearing a costume.”

“You don’t.”

Maya came beside him.

“No,” she agreed. “You really don’t.”

The delivery driver provided the first test.

When the Thai food arrived, Maya insisted that Evan answer the door. His heart hammered while he walked across the apartment in low heels, convinced that the stranger outside would immediately see everything Maya and Claire had attempted to conceal.

Instead the driver handed over the bags and said, “Have a good night, ma’am.”

The door closed.

Evan remained there for several seconds.

It wasn’t merely that he’d fooled someone. The driver hadn’t behaved like someone being fooled. He had simply seen a woman answering the door and moved on with his evening.

That distinction fascinated Evan.

Later, standing before the mirror again, Maya asked what they should call her.

“She’s me.”

“I know.”

“Then Evan.”

Claire considered his reflection.

“Eva.”

Something about the name landed differently.

Eva.

Close enough to his own that it didn’t feel like another person.

Evan rolled his eyes, but his reflection was smiling.

⸻

Two days later, Eva interviewed with Margaret Halpern.

The interview lasted forty minutes. Within ten, Evan had almost forgotten about the skirt and makeup because Margaret was considerably more interested in whether he could manage two calendars simultaneously and prevent people she disliked from reaching her by telephone.

At the end she closed Evan’s résumé.

“When can you start?”

He blinked.

“Monday.”

“Monday it is.”

Evan waited until he reached the parking garage before calling Maya.

“I got it.”

Her scream forced him to move the phone away from his ear.

Afterward he caught Eva’s reflection in the darkened window of his car. The makeup hadn’t changed the underlying structure of his face. His jaw was still his jaw. Beneath the delicate necklace, the slight rise at his throat remained visible if one knew to look.

But the total effect was unmistakable.

Evan adjusted a strand of hair against his cheek.

“All right, Eva,” he whispered to the reflection. “Six months.”

At that moment, Eva was still nothing more than a remarkably elaborate solution to an employment problem.

Or so Evan believed.

⸻

Chapter 2 — The New Secretary

Eva arrived twenty-seven minutes early on Monday.

Twelve of those minutes were attributable to earrings.

That irritated Evan.

Nobody at Halpern Development cared whether Margaret Halpern’s secretary wore silver studs or small dangling earrings. Yet he’d changed them three times before leaving the apartment.

By ten o’clock, however, the absurdity of becoming Eva every morning had been overwhelmed by ordinary work. Margaret maintained two calendars, distrusted both, refused connections through Denver in winter and apparently regarded hotels describing themselves as “boutique” as a personal affront.

Emails were still emails. Meetings were still meetings. Difficult clients remained difficult regardless of whether the person handling them wore trousers or a skirt.

By lunchtime Evan had begun to relax.

Then Margaret handed him a folder.

“Take this to Adrian Cole. Strategy and Development. Third floor.”

Eva found Adrian’s office empty.

“You looking for me?”

The voice came from behind him.

Eva turned.

His first impression was of height and broad shoulders beneath a white Oxford shirt. His second was of Adrian’s hair.

It was pulled into a neat man bun at the back of his head.

The style was unmistakably masculine, but there was enough hair gathered into the bun to tell Evan that it would probably fall past Adrian’s shoulders if released. A few dark strands had escaped around his temples. With his hair pulled away, Adrian’s hazel eyes, high cheekbones and narrow mouth were particularly noticeable.

Evan’s mind supplied a word before he could prevent it.

Pretty.

He immediately corrected himself.

Handsome.

Adrian looked at him for a moment too.

“Eva?”

“Yes.”

“Margaret’s new secretary?”

“Executive secretary.”

Adrian smiled.

“Sorry. Executive secretary.”

Eva handed him the folder.

Their conversation lasted perhaps two minutes. Adrian introduced himself, joked about Margaret and then unexpectedly complimented Eva’s hair.

“It’s incredible.”

The comment caught Evan off guard.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got hair envy.”

Eva glanced deliberately at the bun.

“You appear to have plenty.”

Adrian touched it self-consciously.

“Corporate compromise.”

“What does that mean?”

“My sister says wearing it loose makes me look like I’m auditioning for a shampoo commercial.”

Eva laughed.

“So you imprison it?”

“Monday through Friday.”

Something about that answer interested Evan more than it should have.

When Eva returned upstairs, he glanced back just before entering the stairwell.

Adrian was watching him leave.

Their eyes met.

Adrian immediately looked down at the folder.

Eva entered the stairwell smiling.

⸻

The following morning Adrian brought coffee.

By Wednesday he had discovered another reason to visit Margaret’s floor. On Thursday he arrived carrying a document that could unquestionably have been emailed.

Friday he simply stopped by.

Eva gradually became accustomed to seeing the man bun approaching around the corner. In fact, he began recognizing Adrian by it from a distance: tall, sleeves usually rolled, dark hair gathered neatly behind his head.

One afternoon Eva found himself wondering what Adrian looked like with it down.

The thought surprised him with its persistence.

“Anyone interesting?” Maya asked that evening.

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Maya laughed.

“Who?”

“Nobody.”

“Name.”

Evan sighed. “Adrian.”

“What does Adrian look like?”

“Tall. Hazel eyes. Long hair.”

“Long hair?”

“He wears it in a bun.”

“Hot?”

Evan opened his refrigerator.

“Objectively good-looking.”

Maya laughed harder.

“Objectively.”

“I’m hanging up.”

But later, after removing Eva’s makeup, Evan caught himself standing before the bathroom mirror while remembering Adrian’s compliment.

Your hair is incredible.

The silver earrings remained in his ears.

He removed one, then paused with the other still in place.

His bare face looked more masculine without the makeup, particularly around the jaw and throat. The single earring created an odd intermediate version of him.

Not Evan.

Not quite Eva.

He studied it longer than necessary.

⸻

Chapter 3 — Ten More Minutes

By Eva’s fourth week at Halpern Development, Evan’s alarm had moved ten minutes earlier.

This made no logical sense.

During his first week he had required nearly an hour to get ready. With practice he’d reduced the process to around forty minutes. He should have been sleeping later.

Instead, he was waking earlier.

The additional ten minutes had nothing to do with passing as a woman. He could already do that. They were spent on details nobody had requested: blending his eye makeup more carefully, choosing earrings, experimenting with blush, deciding whether his hair looked better pinned partly back or loose around his shoulders.

That Monday he stood before his mirror wearing the burgundy blouse he’d purchased himself.

Eva was already finished.

Evan knew it.

Nevertheless, he opened the makeup bag.

A touch more definition around the eyes.

He blended it.

Then a little blush.

Lipstick came last.

He leaned toward the mirror.

His face remained recognizably his own. Makeup softened the broader line of his jaw without eliminating it. When he raised his chin to fasten a necklace, the slight prominence of his Adam’s apple was still there.

Evan had stopped seeing those things as failures.

They were simply pieces of him that Eva carried.

He brushed his hair again.

Ten minutes.

“There,” he murmured.

He didn’t ask himself whom the extra effort was for.

⸻

Adrian appeared at 9:17.

His hair was in its usual bun, although two loose strands framed his face.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

He placed a folder on Eva’s desk.

“For Margaret.”

“Thanks.”

Adrian remained there.

Eva looked up.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“I was going to compliment your blouse.”

Eva glanced down at the burgundy fabric.

“You may continue.”

“I like it.”

“Thank you.”

“New?”

Eva slowly looked up.

“How would you know?”

Adrian froze.

“I…”

“You’ve been cataloguing my clothes?”

“No.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Definitely not.”

“Good.”

“I just notice things.”

The teasing faded from his expression.

Eva became acutely aware that Adrian was looking directly at him.

“I noticed you,” Adrian added.

Evan’s pulse quickened.

Margaret’s intercom rescued him.

⸻

A few days later they ate lunch together outside.

Adrian’s bun had loosened during the morning, and several strands had escaped around his face.

Eva found himself staring.

“You’re doing it again,” Adrian said.

“What?”

“Looking at my hair.”

“You comment on mine constantly.”

“Fair.”

Eva studied the bun.

“How long is it?”

“My hair?”

“No, your lunch.”

Adrian laughed.

“Below my shoulders.”

“Why don’t you wear it down?”

“At work?”

“Yes.”

“My sister says I have annoyingly feminine hair.”

Evan smiled.

“Maybe she’s right.”

Adrian looked at him curiously.

“You think I look feminine?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate.

Too immediate.

Eva reconsidered.

“You have… fine features.”

“That’s diplomatic.”

“Would you prefer pretty?”

Adrian laughed.

“Probably not.”

Yet the word stayed with Evan.

He imagined Adrian’s hair loose.

Then brushed.

Then styled differently.

His gaze settled briefly on Adrian’s eyes.

Eyeliner would make their hazel color extraordinary.

Evan caught himself.

The thought was ridiculous.

He returned to his sandwich.

⸻

Eva’s closet expanded.

The first clothes had been borrowed because they were necessary for work. The next few purchases could reasonably be called practical.

Eventually that explanation stopped working.

One Saturday Evan went shopping alone.

He bought a charcoal dress.

Then another blouse.

Then shoes he absolutely did not need.

At the cosmetics counter, he almost told the saleswoman he was shopping for a girlfriend. Instead he simply said, “I need a mascara.”

Twenty minutes later he left with mascara, eyeliner, an eyeshadow palette and lipstick.

Back home, he unpacked everything.

The apartment was empty.

It was Saturday.

There was no Margaret Halpern.

No office.

No coworkers to convince.

No Adrian.

Nobody needed Eva.

Evan stood in front of the bathroom mirror for several minutes.

Then he began applying makeup.

When he finished, he put on the charcoal dress.

Eva appeared.

He examined her quietly.

The jaw was still slightly broad. The throat still contained that small masculine prominence. His hands were still somewhat large.

Yet Eva looked attractive.

More importantly, Evan liked looking at her.

That realization was harder to dismiss than anything that had happened at work.

He had originally thought he enjoyed Adrian’s attention because it proved that the disguise worked.

But nobody was watching now.

Nobody was paying him.

Eva had no reason to exist on a Saturday afternoon.

And yet Evan had chosen her.

He touched the new lipstick with one fingertip and smiled at himself.

Monday morning, he decided, he might wake up another ten minutes early.

Not because Eva needed it.

Because Evan wanted her to look beautiful.

Chapter 4 — Audrey After Dark

By Friday afternoon, Evan had decided that Adrian’s man bun was becoming a problem.

Not the bun itself. There was nothing objectionable about it. If anything, Adrian wore it annoyingly well: dark hair swept back from his forehead and gathered high enough to look deliberate rather than careless, with one or two rebellious strands usually escaping by the end of the day.

The problem was that Evan had begun anticipating its arrival.

At eleven fifteen, Adrian appeared around the corner of Margaret’s suite with two coffees, and Eva noticed him before he noticed her.

That was becoming typical.

He wore a charcoal shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, dark trousers and the same understated watch he wore most days. His hair was pulled tightly into its usual knot. The style exposed the long lines of his face and the high cheekbones Evan had privately decided were unfairly good on a man.

Adrian saw Eva and smiled.

There it was again—that irritating little reaction in Evan’s stomach.

“I come bearing evidence of addiction.”

He set a coffee beside Eva’s keyboard.

“Yours or mine?”

“I’m hoping we’re codependent.”

Eva took the cup. “That’s moving rather quickly.”

Adrian laughed, and Evan felt absurdly pleased with himself.

Margaret was on a conference call behind the closed door, leaving the executive suite unusually quiet. Adrian rested one hand against the edge of Eva’s desk.

“You doing anything this weekend?”

Evan looked up.

The question was ordinary enough, but something about Adrian’s tone made him cautious.

“Maya is apparently kidnapping me tomorrow.”

“Who’s Maya?”

“My—”

Evan stopped.

Eva had a Maya too, of course.

He’d learned that creating a fictional life was much harder than inventing a name. Consequently, Eva’s biography had gradually become Evan’s biography with carefully altered details.

“My friend.”

“Where’s she taking you?”

“She won’t tell me.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It generally is.”

Adrian smiled, although his eyes remained on Eva a moment longer.

“What about you?” Eva asked.

“Working.”

“On Saturday?”

“Second job.”

That surprised him.

“You have another job?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you do?”

For the first time since Evan had known him, Adrian looked genuinely evasive.

“Entertainment.”

Eva waited.

Adrian didn’t elaborate.

“You’re being mysterious.”

“It’s more interesting that way.”

“What kind of entertainment?”

“The entertaining kind.”

“Thank you for clarifying.”

Adrian grinned. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Margaret’s office door opened.

Adrian immediately straightened.

Margaret looked from him to the coffee in Eva’s hand.

“Adrian.”

“Margaret.”

“Are you employed on this floor now?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then perhaps you should return to the floor where I pay you to be.”

Adrian placed a hand over his heart.

“Your warmth sustains me.”

“It shouldn’t.”

He retreated toward the elevator.

Before the doors closed, he looked at Eva once more.

“Have fun getting kidnapped.”

Eva smiled.

“Have fun being mysterious.”

The doors closed.

Margaret looked at Eva.

“You encourage him.”

“I do not.”

Margaret’s expression suggested otherwise.

Evan lowered his eyes to the coffee.

⸻

At precisely seven thirty the following evening, Maya stood in Evan’s bedroom holding up two shirts.

“Black.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the shirt you always make me wear when we’re going somewhere you refuse to explain.”

“That should tell you it’s versatile.”

Evan was sitting on the edge of the bed in jeans, barefoot, with his long hair still damp from the shower.

“Where are we going?”

“Out.”

“We established that.”

“There’s music.”

“A concert?”

“Not exactly.”

“A club?”

“Technically.”

Evan looked at her.

“Maya.”

She threw the black shirt at him.

“Put it on.”

He caught it.

“You’re exhausting.”

“You’ve spent the last month voluntarily getting up before six to put on mascara. I refuse to accept criticism of my recreational decisions.”

Evan gave her a warning look.

Maya smiled sweetly.

He changed.

Unlike Eva’s carefully assembled wardrobe, Evan’s masculine clothes remained uncomplicated. Dark jeans, boots, fitted black shirt. He considered tying his hair back, then left it loose because it hadn’t dried completely.

Maya watched from the doorway.

“You know, your eyebrows really have changed your face.”

“We’ve discussed this.”

“I know. I’m appreciating my work.”

“Claire did them.”

“Our collective work.”

Evan glanced at himself in the mirror.

She wasn’t wrong.

Even as Evan, traces of the previous month had followed him. His brows were cleaner. His hair was healthier because he’d started using the products Claire recommended. He had become more attentive to his skin.

Nothing dramatic.

But enough that Evan occasionally caught his reflection and saw a hint of Eva without intending to.

He fastened his watch.

“Ready.”

Maya smiled.

“Almost.”

“What?”

She reached toward him and unfastened another button of his shirt.

“Maya.”

“Trust me.”

“I’ve learned not to.”

“Too late.”

⸻

The Velvet Room occupied the ground floor of an old brick building on the edge of downtown.

The name appeared above the entrance in red neon.

Evan stopped on the sidewalk.

He could hear bass through the walls.

“What exactly is this?”

“You’ll see.”

“Maya.”

She took his arm and pulled him toward the entrance.

Inside, the room was darker than Evan expected, illuminated by pools of amber light and the glow from a small stage at the far end. Tables surrounded the stage, while a long polished bar occupied one wall. The crowd was mixed—couples, groups of women, groups of men, people dressed casually and others as though they’d spent hours getting ready.

Evan followed Maya toward a table.

Then he noticed the poster beside the stage.

Three elaborately dressed women posed beneath the words:

SATURDAY DIVAS

Evan stopped.

“Maya.”

She turned.

“You brought me to a drag show.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve spent four weeks dressing as a woman and somehow have never actually watched someone else do it.”

“That is an extremely questionable connection.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it.”

Evan looked around.

He wasn’t offended.

Mostly surprised.

A month ago he might have been uncomfortable. Now, surrounded by people who had apparently come specifically to celebrate exaggerated femininity performed by men, his own secret seemed almost strangely mundane.

Maya ordered drinks.

“You can relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re sitting like Margaret is evaluating your posture.”

Evan deliberately leaned back.

“Better?”

“Marginally.”

The lights dimmed.

Music began.

The first performer swept onto the stage in silver sequins.

Evan laughed almost immediately.

Not at her.

At the sheer confidence of it.

She commanded the room with an ease Evan couldn’t imagine possessing as either Evan or Eva. The makeup was deliberately dramatic, the gestures theatrical, the costumes extravagant.

The second performer was funnier.

By the third, Evan understood why Maya had brought him.

There was something liberating about watching femininity treated not as a set of rules to follow correctly but as something that could be played with, amplified, mocked and celebrated simultaneously.

Then the host returned.

“And now, my darlings, for those of you who have been behaving yourselves—and especially those of you who haven’t—our final queen…”

The crowd reacted before the name was announced.

Maya leaned toward Evan.

“This one’s apparently really good.”

The lights changed.

“Give it up for Audrey Vale!”

The curtain opened.

Evan forgot whatever Maya said next.

Audrey stepped into the light.

She was tall.

That was the first thing he registered.

Not unusually tall in the heels she wore, but tall enough that her proportions gave her a striking presence. She wore a dark emerald dress that caught the light as she moved, fitted through the waist before falling around her legs. Her hair was dark, thick and very long, styled in loose waves that swept across one shoulder.

Something about the hair caught Evan immediately.

Then her face.

The stage makeup was much heavier than anything Eva wore—defined eyes, sculpted cheeks, deep lipstick—but it wasn’t clownish or deliberately exaggerated. It transformed the face beneath it without completely obscuring its structure.

Audrey had strong cheekbones.

A narrow mouth.

A slightly angular jaw.

There was something familiar there.

Evan leaned forward.

Maya noticed.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You just said oh.”

“I recognize that posture.”

“What posture?”

“The one where you pretend you’re not staring at someone.”

Evan ignored her.

Audrey moved across the stage with astonishing confidence.

There was nothing tentative about her.

Evan remembered his first evening in Maya’s apartment, terrified of two-inch heels and holding a handbag like stolen property.

Audrey looked as though heels had been invented specifically for her.

She moved through the audience during part of the number, exchanging playful glances, teasing people at tables and somehow making every person she approached feel temporarily involved in the performance.

Then she came toward Evan’s side of the room.

Her eyes swept across the tables.

And stopped.

On him.

For perhaps half a second, Audrey’s expression changed.

Evan noticed.

Then the performer’s smile returned.

She moved closer.

Evan felt heat rise into his face.

Audrey stopped beside their table and held out one hand.

The crowd reacted.

“No,” Evan said quietly.

Maya was already laughing.

Audrey raised an eyebrow.

Evan looked at her hand.

Then her face.

Up close, the familiarity was stronger.

He knew those eyes.

Or thought he did.

But the idea disappeared beneath the absurdity of the moment.

Evan took her hand.

Audrey smiled.

For several seconds she incorporated him into the performance, circling him while the audience cheered. Evan laughed despite himself. When Audrey moved behind him, one hand briefly touched his shoulder.

Then she leaned close enough that her hair brushed his arm.

“You look terrified,” she murmured.

The voice was feminine, lower than Eva’s but completely unlike the stage patter she’d been using.

“I’m reconsidering several life choices.”

Audrey laughed.

Something about that laugh tugged at his memory.

Then she was gone.

Back onto the stage.

Evan watched her for the remainder of the number.

When the applause erupted, he joined it enthusiastically.

Maya looked at him.

“What?”

“You liked her.”

“The performance was good.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Evan took a drink.

“She was good.”

Maya’s smile widened.

“Very good?”

“Don’t.”

⸻

What Evan didn’t know was that behind the stage curtain, Adrian Cole was staring at himself in a brightly lit dressing-room mirror and wondering whether he’d just imagined seeing Eva’s brother in the audience.

Except Eva had never mentioned a brother.

Adrian removed one earring.

Then stopped.

The resemblance was extraordinary.

The same brown eyes.

The same long dark hair.

The same jaw, although more apparent without makeup.

Even the smile had been familiar.

He’d noticed the man almost immediately because, from a distance, Adrian had briefly thought Eva had come to the show without makeup.

That was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

“Two minutes, Audrey,” someone called.

“Got it.”

Adrian looked at his reflection.

Audrey Vale had existed for nearly three years.

Nobody at Halpern knew.

At least, nobody as far as Adrian was aware.

His sister Lena knew, obviously. A handful of close friends knew. His weekend circle knew Adrian and Audrey interchangeably.

The office didn’t.

He preferred it that way.

His work life was spreadsheets, development proposals and conservative shirts with his hair pulled into a man bun.

Saturday nights belonged to Audrey.

Adrian had originally started performing because Lena dared him.

He’d expected to do it once.

Then someone invited him back.

Three years later, the extra money was useful, but that wasn’t why he continued.

He loved Audrey.

Not as another identity exactly.

As a part of himself that seemed to have nowhere else to go.

Adrian looked toward the dressing-room door.

And now a man who looked almost exactly like Eva had watched Audrey perform.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

⸻

Maya refused to leave after the show.

“Drink.”

“I have one.”

“Another.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re out.”

This logic apparently satisfied her.

They moved toward the bar as the stage was cleared.

Evan had nearly stopped thinking about Audrey when someone sat two stools away.

He glanced over.

Then looked again.

Audrey.

Except not quite.

The emerald dress was gone.

So was most of the theatrical makeup.

She now wore fitted black trousers, ankle boots and a silky dark-red blouse. Her long hair remained loose but had been brushed into softer waves. The stage lashes were gone, the dramatic lipstick replaced with something understated.

She looked younger.

And much more like an ordinary woman.

Evan stared.

Without the performance around her, Audrey was even more attractive.

There remained something unusual about her face: the jaw slightly stronger than most women’s, the cheekbones pronounced, the shoulders perhaps a little broad beneath the blouse.

Evan liked all of it.

In fact, those were precisely the things he found compelling.

Audrey looked over.

Their eyes met.

She smiled.

“Recovered?”

Evan laughed.

“Mostly.”

Maya looked between them.

“I need another drink.”

“You have one,” Evan said.

“I need a different one.”

She disappeared with suspicious speed.

Audrey moved to the empty stool beside him.

“I’m Audrey.”

“Evan.”

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

“Evan?”

“Yes.”

Adrian stared.

Up close, it was uncanny.

Eva.

No.

Not Eva.

But the resemblance was impossible to ignore.

“Have we met?”

Evan asked.

Audrey recovered.

“I don’t think so.”

“You looked like you recognized me.”

“I thought you were someone else.”

“Someone handsome?”

Audrey laughed.

There it was again.

That familiar laugh.

“Something like that.”

They talked.

At first about the show.

Evan admitted he’d never been to one.

Audrey teased him about being dragged onto the floor.

Then they talked about music.

Restaurants.

Work, vaguely.

Audrey said she did “a little entertainment and a lot of boring things.”

Evan found himself studying her while she spoke.

Her hair especially.

He had always noticed long hair.

Maybe because his own was so much a part of how he saw himself.

Audrey’s was magnificent.

“You’re staring at my hair.”

Evan froze.

The sentence struck him strangely.

Someone else had said almost exactly that recently.

He smiled.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t say stop.”

That made him laugh.

Audrey smiled back.

Evan felt the attraction unmistakably now.

And with it came an unexpected sense of relief.

For weeks he’d been confused by Adrian.

By the pleasure he took in Adrian’s attention.

By the way his eyes followed that ridiculous man bun around the office.

By the thought he’d once had about Adrian wearing eyeliner.

Audrey seemed to resolve everything.

Here was a woman—an unusual woman, perhaps, but unmistakably feminine in Evan’s perception—and he was strongly attracted to her.

See?

The thought came almost triumphantly.

Women.

His interest in Adrian could be explained.

He liked being admired.

He liked Adrian’s hair.

He enjoyed friendship and flirtation while playing Eva.

That didn’t necessarily mean anything about Evan.

Across from him sat proof.

Audrey tucked her hair behind one ear.

Evan’s certainty became even stronger.

Then she asked, “So what does Evan do when Maya isn’t abducting him?”

“You remembered her name?”

“You mentioned it.”

“I work in marketing. Or I did. I’m between jobs.”

Audrey’s brows lifted.

“Really?”

“Unfortunately.”

Adrian felt the floor shift beneath him.

Eva had told him she had worked in marketing before joining Halpern.

Coincidence.

Perhaps.

“What kind?”

Evan told her.

The answer was almost identical to Eva’s.

Adrian looked at his face again.

The same eyes.

The same hair.

The same shape of nose.

The resemblance wasn’t sibling-level.

It was—

No.

Surely not.

Audrey took a sip of her drink.

Evan noticed the hesitation.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you’re solving something.”

Audrey smiled.

“Occupational hazard.”

“What occupation?”

“I told you. Boring things.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“It should.”

Maya returned eventually.

She introduced herself to Audrey and, within approximately thirty seconds, understood that Evan was fascinated.

Evan knew she understood because Maya had no ability whatsoever to disguise satisfaction.

At midnight Audrey glanced at the time.

“I should go.”

Evan felt disproportionately disappointed.

“So soon?”

“I have an early morning.”

“On Sunday?”

“Some of us have complicated lives.”

She stood.

Evan stood too.

For one moment, he considered asking for her number.

Then Adrian appeared in his mind.

That stopped him.

Whatever exactly was happening between Eva and Adrian, it was happening.

Adrian had been flirting with Eva for weeks.

Evan had encouraged it.

He wasn’t going to begin something else simply because Audrey was attractive.

“I enjoyed meeting you,” he said.

Audrey looked at him for a moment.

“So did I.”

No number.

No date.

Nothing inappropriate.

Yet when Audrey walked away, Evan watched until she disappeared.

Maya appeared beside him.

“Oh, you’re in trouble.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You looked at her like you’d forgotten English.”

“She was attractive.”

“Very.”

Evan glanced toward the door.

“Extremely.”

Maya studied him.

“What about Adrian?”

Evan looked at her sharply.

“What about him?”

“Exactly.”

⸻

At home, Evan lay awake longer than he intended.

He thought about Audrey.

Her hair.

Her confidence.

Her laugh.

That strangely familiar face.

Then, annoyingly, he thought about Adrian.

The man bun.

Hazel eyes.

Coffee.

I noticed you.

Evan rolled onto his side.

“This is ridiculous.”

He closed his eyes.

Audrey appeared.

Then Adrian.

The two images had nothing to do with each other.

At least, as far as Evan knew.

⸻

Across town, Adrian stood before his bathroom mirror removing the last traces of Audrey.

His hair was still loose.

Without the wig pieces and stage styling, it fell naturally below his shoulders.

He washed away the remaining foundation.

Audrey gradually disappeared.

Adrian looked back.

He picked up his phone.

Eva’s name was there in his messages.

He opened their conversation.

A photograph Eva had sent earlier in the week appeared near the top: a coffee Margaret had somehow managed to spill across three separate folders.

Adrian enlarged the photograph because Eva’s hand was visible at the edge.

Then he remembered Evan’s hands at the bar.

His eyes.

His smile.

Adrian returned to the mirror.

“No way.”

He pulled his hair back.

Twisted it.

Secured it into the man bun he wore at Halpern.

The man from the office returned.

Yet for the first time, Adrian found himself wondering what Eva would think if she ever saw Audrey.

And what the hell Eva had to do with a man named Evan who looked almost exactly like her.

He turned off the bathroom light.

Monday suddenly seemed much farther away than usual.