Page 162 of False God

When Blythe darts upstairs to get something, Lili glances at me. “What time do you have to leave for your meeting?”

I glance at the clock. “In about an hour.”

“I called Chloe. I’m meeting her for brunch.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “I can drop you off on the way.”

Blythe rushes back into the dining room, breathing heavily. “Which bag?” she asks.

I don’t glance over; certain the question isn’t meant for me.

Lili tilts her head, deliberating. “Left one,” she says. “I have the same one in black.”

“Charlie brought it back from New York for me.”

At that, I look over. Blythe is holding up two purses. And oneisthe bag I brought back. The one I wasn’t sure Blythe ever opened, let alone used.

“Lucky you,” Lili comments. “My brother Kit gave me acandlelast Christmas.”

I smile. “The bag was from Georgia, Blythe.”

“That’d be more convincing if all of ‘her’ gifts weren’t hand-delivered by you.”

I have no response to that.

But I don’t need one. My sister is too busy talking to her new best friend.

38

Chloe squeals as soon as she sees me. The elderly man seated one table over sends a disgruntled glance in our direction before returning his attention to the newspaper spread across the table.

“You’rehere!” Chloe flings her arms around me as soon as I’m within hugging distance, squeezing me so tightly that I’m concerned my ribs could crack.

“I’m here,” I say into her hair. She’s cut it since I saw her last, the ends barely brushing her shoulders.

Chloe returns to her seat, literally bouncing in place as I sink down opposite her. “The waiter recommended it,” she says, nodding to the two bowls of green soup on the table.

I lean forward and sniff. “What is it?”

“Cucumber gazpacho with honeydew melon and lemon verbena.”

“Hmm.” I swallow a spoonful. “It’s really good.”

“Right?” Chloe scoops some up too. “So? Are you moving to Ireland?”

“I haven’t decided,” I tell her.

“When is the interview in DC?”

“Friday.”

“Wait. Does that mean that you’ll be here another day?”

“I, uh …” I swish my spoon back and forth in my soup, creating tiny waves. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Did he ask you to stay?”

My gaze snaps up, eyes absorbing Chloe’s knowing expression. “What?”

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