“So about the whole secret agent thing . . .” Sam lifted Layla’s cup and took a sip of her cooling coffee, his nose wrinkling as he swallowed.

“Classified.”

Sam checked his phone again. “How classified can it be when you wrote on the marriage résumé that you posted online: ‘Occupation: CIA’?”

“Also classified.”

Layla shook her head. “I think the whole ‘classified’ thing might be a problem for me. Communication is the key to a successful marriage. What if I asked you how your day was, or whether you wanted samosas in your lunch, or if you wanted a quickie in the shower, and you answered Classified? It just wouldn’t work.”

Sam made a sound that was part choke, part cough.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” Sam cleared his throat. “I just wasn’t prepared for your last comment and the coffee went down the wrong way.” He gestured to a stony-faced Faroz across the table. “Not everyone will share your liberal views, so you might want to keep comments of a sexual nature to a minimum.”

Layla laughed. “If you think doing it in the shower is liberal, I’ll definitely never tell you what I got up to when I found a three-foot-high can of whipped cream at Costco and asked the New York Dolphins men’s water polo team to help me carry it home.”

“I didn’t want to know that.” Sam’s jaw tightened. “And I suspect Faroz didn’t, either.”

“I’m joking, Sam. Lighten up. My apartment wasn’t big enough to hold all of them at once.”

Faroz put his sunglasses back on, as if that brief unfiltered glimpse of her had been enough. “I’ve seen things that would make you puke up a lung.”

“Whipped cream and a water polo team do it for me,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Still amused by Sam’s reaction, Layla turned her attention back to Faroz. “What kind of things did you see that would make me puke up a lung? I’m asking for my mom. She loves gore.”

“He won’t tell you,” Sam said. “It’s classified. Although that raises an interesting issue. I thought CIA agents weren’t allowed to operate on American soil.”

Faroz nodded. “I’m undercover.”

“As what?”

“A secret agent, obviously,” Layla said.

Sam snorted a laugh. “If he’s a secret agent, how can he be undercover as a secret agent?”

“Haven’t you seen Quantico?” She sipped her coffee, now cold and sickly sweet. “Priyanka Chopra played a CIA agent who went undercover in the FBI and then she was undercover undercover and then undercover undercover in a secret organization. Or maybe I have one of the double-undercover parts wrong. Anyway, it’s a thing.”

Faroz’s lips moved a hair width from their perpetually straight line in what Layla assumed was a smile. “You are very perceptive.”

“She’s a movie and TV addict,” Sam said. “I’m amazed she has time to work.”

“I don’t watch horror. I’m easily scared.”

Sam stared at her, incredulous. “You haven’t seen The Shining?”

“No.”

“Psycho?”

“No.”

“The Exorcist? Nightmare on Elm Street? The Texas Chain Saw Massacre?—”

“What part of ‘I don’t watch horror’ did you not understand?”

“But those are classics,” Sam protested. “How can you call yourself a movie buff when you haven’t seen some of the best movies ever made?”

“Are you seriously comparing The Texas Chain Saw Massacre with Legally Blonde?”

“I saw horrors overseas that would make you scream like a girl,” Faroz said.

Sam tipped his head back and groaned. “Oh, for—”

“I am a girl.” Layla pointed out. “Actually, I’m a woman. And this woman doesn’t want to scream. She doesn’t want to puke up her lung or have to witness the worst humanity has to offer. I’m cheerful, optimistic, and upbeat, and I want to keep it that way.”

“The characters in horror films aren’t always human.” Sam mused as he stroked his bottom lip. “You’ve got your demons, evil spirits, zombies, malevolent ghosts . . . Raat was the best horror film ever made in Bollywood. If you want to feel fear, real fear, the kind that leaves you drenched in sweat—”

“I don’t sweat,” Layla snapped. “I glow. What I do want to find out is what Faroz is looking for in a wife.” She smiled at her date, trying to see through his dark-tinted glasses. “It sounds like you’re very busy leading your exciting and dangerous undercover life. Wouldn’t you be better off checking Spy Tinder to find someone who really understands your line of work and can support you in the way a spy needs to be supported? It sounds like you need a Mr. & Mrs. Smith type of relationship, where you’re both spies pretending to live an average life.”

“I need a cover,” Faroz said. “A nice normal family. Average-looking wife. Two kids. House in the suburbs. Dog. Minivan.”

“Average-looking?” Layla huffed. “Except for a few inches and a couple of pounds, the only difference between me and Angelina Jolie, who starred in that film along with Brad Pitt, is the color of my skin. In fact, the other day someone came up to me and said, ‘Hey, Ange. Did you get a tan?’”

“You’re perfect,” Faroz said. “The CIA can stage a wedding wherever you want. If you need guests, we can hire some—”

“Can we have elephants?”

“Okay. That’s it. We’re out of here.” Sam stood abruptly, pulling Layla to her feet. “No elephants. No fake wedding. No fake CIA agent. He’s probably some IT geek from Silicon Valley who only leaves his cubicle once a year.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Faroz held up a placatory hand. “It’s a lot to take in. I know. Few people understand the sacrifices that have to be made to protect this great country of ours.”

“Let’s go.” Sam pulled Layla behind him. “This isn’t the guy you’re looking for.”

Layla giggled. “If you’re doing the Jedi thing, you’re supposed to wave your hand in front of his face and drop your voice a little before you say that.”

Sam looked back over his shoulder. “Is there a non-horror movie you haven’t seen?”

“I can’t think of one right now, but you have to admit movies are very helpful for navigating unusual circumstances in life, like when you meet a CIA agent who is undercover as a CIA agent and wants to marry you as a cover for his spy activities. If I hadn’t seen all the James Bond movies, all the Mission: Impossibles, and all the Jason Bourne movies, I would have freaked out and caused a scene and drawn the kind of attention he is trying to avoid. Maybe they would have kidnapped me because of course a hot guy like him would have a sexy girlfriend like me and they would know he’d come to rescue me even if it meant he had to risk his life and give up state secrets to get me back.”