Page 94 of The Kiss of Deception

“Except all those things are explained by extraordinary circumstances,” I argue. For some reason, I have to. “Miles blamed himself—entirely wrongly, might I add—for the assault. So he overcompensated and bought the house to ease his guilt, his fears. It’s as much about me being safe as it is about his peace of mind, knowing I’m safely tucked in there. That’s what the house is about.”

“I’m kinda offended on his behalf.” Her nose wrinkles, disappointment clear in her voice. I cringe a little, wishing my seat would swallow me. “Quit the bullshit fancy words. You’re just making excuses and wrapping them in a pretty bow. Well, I don’t buy it.”

Sometimes I’m not entirely sure I understand her.

“What are you so afraid of, Zoe?” Her question is rhetorical, spoken in soft, soothing tones, like she’s trying to not scare away a wounded animal.

She goes back to her cookies, giving me space and silence to process her words as we navigate the crowded traffic of Boston.

The sun has long sailed its way up to the high sky, casting upon us too much heat for the late days of August. The sky is cloudless, streaked in lines as planes land and leave with a white trail behind. It looks so blue and happy Miles was born. With the windows down, the breeze hit my nostrils and my hair with the faintest salty taste, and I feel a glimmer of peace.

“Noooooo!”

I jump in my seat, my foot almost slamming on the brake pedal.

“Camila fucking whatever your middle name is! Why are you yelling? Do you want us to crash? Do you want to die? Or worse.”

“If you don’t, I will. We’ll crash and burn a—”

“What the hell are you on about?” My heart races, and there’s not enough blood in my head to sift through her words.

“You brought me along to pick up your mother-in-law, Zoe—your fake-mother-in-law. Why did you bring me?” She wails, pulling at her pigtails. “No, why did you tell me the truth? Why didn’t you keep lying to me? You should’ve kept lying to me! That’s what you do for friends. You lie!

“Now you’re turning me into a bad friend. I’m a terrible liar. I’ll blurt it out.” She frantically fans her face. “And I’m sweating!” Then, she bends her neck to sniff her armpits. “I’m gonna smell when I meet your mother-in-law. I’m a terrible liar and I smell! What kind of first impression is that? When I’m wiping the water of your child’s head, she’s gonna look at me and see the sweaty liar instead of her grandbaby’s godmother!”

Uh? “Why would you have to wipe water off my child’s forehead?”

“’Cause that’s baptism,” she informs. Because, apparently, she knows my children’s names and religion. “Wait. That’s not the issue here. Focus on me, the sweaty, terrible liar.”

“But maybe you’re not. People come through under pressure. Look at me, I never knew I was a talented actress until the occasion rose.” I reach across the console to pat her knee. “Don’t worry. If it all goes to shit, we can always try an acting career.”

“Not time for jokes! I’m gonna mess this up. Why would you tell me the truth!” She cries behind her hands.

“Because I trust you?”

Camila widens her fingers, eyes peeking at me between middle finger and forefinger. “I would be moved, but that sounded awfully like a question.” The wailing resumes. “Why would you do that? Why would you trust me? Silly child. I don’t know the definition of the word secret!”

Her hysteria is deafening as we navigate the infernal traffic until we pull over at the terminal.

“Zoe?” she says then. “Everyone deserves a love story for the books. Yours is just within your grasp. Don’t let whatever’s holding you back steal it from you.”

Then she puts on her grin and proceeds to act the shit out of her face.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Miles

“SURPRISE!”

My foot hasn’t touched tiled floor when the cheerful greeting startles me.

With a high-pitched curse, I stumble inside to find my living room filled to the brim with familiar faces, my embarrassing shriek swallowed by the yearly chant they yell in unison. Fortunately.

My hand presses against my chest, trying to slow my heartbeat with measured breaths. Then I lock eyes with Zoe and all my efforts crumble.

She’s a petite thing in the midst of a crowd, but I find her in an instant. She’s gravity to my soul, her pull unrelenting. As though it’s a two-way street, the crowd parts for her to step forward to me.

Zoe’s smile hides behind a single candle that paints her cheeks in the prettiest pink as she raises it for me. “Happy birthday, love.”

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