Page 88 of False God

She listens, the convertible rolling down a road that turns to dirt. I can hear the ocean. Smell the brine in the air.

Lili parks, then asks, “Where are we?”

From this vantage point, it looks like the middle of nowhere.

I pop the door open. “Come look.”

The moonlight is eerie. Romantic as we follow the path that’s been worn in the grass to the edge of the cliff.

“Wow.” Lili is staring straight ahead. Salty wind blows the loose strands of her hair straight back. Her dress swishes around in ripples of plum, revealing flashes of her legs.

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “You don’t get this in New York.”

“I never said I hated England, you know.”

“You never said you liked it either.”

“Maybe I haven’t decided how I feel about it yet.”

“Let me know when you do.”

I’m not sure we’re still talking about England. Not sure why I brought her here, to what looks like the end of the world. I always come to the cliffs alone.

Waves crash against the rocky shore a hundred feet below, white spray flying, the whipping wind carrying it even farther. The tall grass around us is mowed flat from its force. A full moon bathes everything in silvery light.

“Is Newcastle near the coast?” Lili asks.

“Not too far,” I reply.

“With cliffs like this?”

“Yes.”

“Do you go there a lot?”

“No,” I lie.

I’m not sure why. Probably because this feels like a lot.

I’m suddenly worried every time I come to the cliffs, this is what I’ll picture. Lili in her purple dress with wild hair, her skin glowing in the moonlight. She wasn’t supposed to realize this was a special place to me rather than a random stop.

“You should.”

I hum in response, but I doubt she hears it over the wind.

“We had a dance planned to perform for Chloe at the reception. Shirts printed and everything.” She sighs. “Today was supposed to be perfect, and I ruined it.”

“She’ll understand, Lili.”

“I know. I just wish she didn’t have to.”

“Do the dance in Saint-Tropez,” I suggest.

“You heard about the trip, huh?”

“Tripp mentioned it.”

She nods. “Who was the woman you were sitting with at the wedding? An ex?” Her tone is absent, her eyes still on the ocean.

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