Page 42 of A Marriage of Lies

Emma: A boy

Me: Gross. You’ll get fired for that

Emma: laugh emoji Ew. Not funny

Emma: He’s a man

Me: Phew. date?

Emma: kind of

Me: It’s time you tell me about this boy-man. We need to meet soon. I want to hear all about it.

Emma: Yes. I need to talk.

Me: Everything okay?

Emma: yeah, I just need my free therapy sheesh with my bf

Me: this weekend?

Emma: yes. I’ll text after school tomorrow.

Me: Sounds good

Emma: Did you schedule the autism test?

Me: yes - six freaking months out

Emma: damn, I’m sorry

Me: it’s okay. Tell the boy-man to go home. You need to go to bed. You’re going to be hungover.

Emma: kiss emoji

My smile turns into a frown as I stare at the phone. It’s unlike Emma to be up past nine, and this makes me even more curious about this mystery man.

I click out of the text conversation and return my focus on the how-to-divorce article.

One step at a time.

TWENTY-TWO

ROWAN

Twenty-eight years earlier

The moment my eyes opened, I flung off the covers and surged out of bed. Wearing a ridiculous grin on my face, I grabbed the robe from the back of the bathroom door and slid into a tattered pair of fuzzy flip flops.

Despite the adrenaline rush, I paused at the bedroom door, and reminded myself to be quiet. Those were the rules. No noise in the house before 8 a.m. Pamela and Ed Jenkins, my current foster parents whom I’d been with for three months, were very strict. I didn’t mind this so much because I was just thrilled that they didn’t have kids. I was the only child in the home, and this was a scenario I greatly preferred.

I hurried down the rickety wooden staircase of the old farmhouse, the steps groaning under my weight. Swinging myself around the bottom banister, I ran to the kitchen.

I stopped abruptly at the doorway, waiting for fanfare.

Pamela and Ed looked up from their bibles, clearly startled at the usual burst of energy from me.

Ed frowned in disapproval.

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