Page 31 of Things We Tell Ourselves

“Great advice,” Camille says drily, trying not to focus on how little Sadie’s midriff bulges over the top of her pants as she leans forward to tuck in the back of the shirt. “Easton was busy with Wade, so I figured I’d let you know that Leah will be out once she’s dressed and expects to meet you.”

“Oh,” Sadie gasps, her eyes getting big, “I can’t believe she would change just to meet me.”

Camille frowns a little. “Well, I think she wasn’t feeling well earlier…” she stops, not sure if she should be telling her that Leah threw up.

“Oh, that’s right, the surgery. Is she in a wheelchair? Easton never told me how old his mother was. The Nordstrom’s—one of my family’s longtime friends in New York—all use surrogates these days because they waited until their forties to have kids.” Sadie fusses with her hair, craning her neck to look in the mirror while standing in the doorway.

“Leah’s not like that. She’s…youthful,” Camille spurts, unable to think of a better word. “She has a boot on her leg, but she gets around fine.”

Sadie’s face falls. “Well that’s good news,” she replies, though her face portrays the opposite. It’s enough to make Camille feel uncomfortable. Sadie moves into the bathroom to get a better look at herself in the mirror.

Camille reaches her hand behind her for the doorknob. “I’m gonna go check on the guys.”

“Speaking of guys,” Sadie sticks her head out from the bathroom. “Have you and Wade ever hooked up?”

Hooked up? Camille frowns. She hasn’t heard that term since high school. She was never the one doing the hooking up and didn’t spend time with the kind of girls who asked those sorts of questions.

“I met him last night,” Camille shrugs.

Sadie stares across the room at her waiting.

Camille turns the doorknob. “No,” she finalizes.

“Count yourself lucky,” Sadie grins, disappearing back into the bathroom, “the second he hooked up with my sister, he left her high and dry.”

Camille walks out, leaving the door open. She’s heard enough.

The game is playing again in the living room, and Easton and Wade are sitting back on the couch. Wade drops his head back on the couch to look at her.

A pot clatters, causing Camille to jump. The woman in the apron she’d seen crossing the backyard is squatting down in front of the bottom cabinets.

“Hello there,” she says, looking up at Camille. “You must be Easton’s friend. I’m Marcy.”

Wade lets out a laugh.

“No,” Camille replies, cutting eyes at Wade. Is it really so crazy to think she could be Easton’s date? “I’m Camille Lee.”

“Sadie’s my girlfriend,” Easton corrects, staring at the tv.

“Oh, good deal,” Marcy cheers, standing up holding a large pan. “Do you have any food allergies or preferences? I’m making pan-fried sesame garlic chicken over rice for a late lunch—”

“Sadie and I are vegetarians,” Easton exclaims from the couch, barely turning his head in their direction.

Marcy sets the pan down loudly on the stove. “Since when are you a vegetarian?”

“Since he started dating one,” Wade answers.

Easton shoots him a warning look that Wade ignores.

Marcy looks at Camille. “Guess I’ll have to take out the tofu then. Any meal requests for the weekend?”

“No,” Camille says gently. “I’ll pretty much eat anything.”

Marcy nods, moving to the second to last six-foot-tall cabinet door. She opens it, and Camille has to do a double-take.

“What on earth is that?” she asks, seeing the cabinet door open to a room instead of shelving. Marcy looks at her and then follows her gaze back to the cabinet.

“What this? It’s my kitchen.” She gives Camille a small grin.

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