Page 66 of Count My Lies

I know for certain now. Our friendship, or whatever Sloane and I had, is gone, dissipating like a trail of smoke from a blown-out candle, a thin gray trace in the air, then nothing. She’s chosen Jay. Good. It’s a relief. It will make what I have to do easier.

Thirty minutes later, when I see Anne-Marie and her kids head toward their house, I pack up and tell Harper we’re going in. I’m thrumming with adrenaline, my whole body vibrating. The day seems hotter, crisper, clearer, than it normally does, the blades of beach grass sharper, pale against the bright blue sky. It feels like we’re in an oven, the temperature creeping up with every passing minute.

When we get to the house, I open the front door, then pause. I hold my hand out behind me to keep Harper from walking in.

From the doorway, I have a clear view into the kitchen. Sloane and Jay are standing together near the sink. Her back is to me as she faces Jay, her face tilted toward his. I can’t see if they’re kissing, but they’reclose enough that they could be. They haven’t heard us, too caught up in whatever they’re doing, saying.

Then I let the door slam. Sloane and Jay jump apart. Sloane looks toward us guiltily, like she’s been caught red-handed, elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

“Hi!” Sloane calls out, a bit too loudly. “I didn’t think you guys would be back so soon!” Her cheeks are aflame. Jay, unsurprisingly, doesn’t say anything.

I wait a beat before giving a tight smile. Then I take Harper’s hand. “We’re going to go get rinsed off,” I say. “Let’s go, Harp.”

Upstairs, Harper and I pack a bag. Even though it’s supposed to be for one night, it’ll likely be many, many more, so I stuff a few extra T-shirts, undies, and shorts into her backpack. “In case you want options,” I tell her, ruffling her hair.

Harper is bouncing around the room, thrilled at the prospect of her first sleepover with a friend.

“What kind of pajamas do you think Claire will have?” I ask as I put herFrozenones at the top of the bag.

“Maybe she’ll have Elsa, like me,” says Harper. “Maybe we’ll be matching. Or maybe she’ll have Ana. Or maybe she won’t haveFrozen. Maybe she’ll haveEncanto. Do you think she’s seenEncanto?”

I nod, laughing. I’d bet my life that every warm-blooded five-year-old on the planet has.

Then, before I open her bedroom door, I bend down, circle my arm around her tiny waist. “When I pick you up from Claire’s house, let’s play a game, okay?”

Harper nods. “Okay. What game?”

“We’re going to pretend I’m Caitlin. And every time you call me Caitlin, you’ll get an M&M. Deal?”

She nods again. I bring her to me, hugging her tightly. “That’s my girl. I bet you’ll be so good at it, you’ll get a whole bag!”

Then, together, we walk down the stairs, back into the living room. Sloane is still in the kitchen, sitting at the table. She’s gnawing on a fingernail, brows knit together. She looks up sharply when she hears us, then stands, the chair almost toppling over.

“Hi,” she says. She’s nervous. She thinks I saw her and Jay kissing, or at least, is worried I did. There’s guilt on her face, too, smeared all over it.

“Will you take Harper next door?” I ask. “She’s going to spend the night at Anne-Marie’s house, with her kids.”

“I’m having a sleepover!” Harper announces. She’s wearing her backpack over her shoulders. It’s almost as big as she is, stuffed to the brim.

Sloane looks surprised. “Sure. Is everything okay?” she asks cautiously.

For me it is. For you, Sloane, not so much.“Fine,” I say. I try to keep my voice even. My heart is starting to pound.This is it.“So, you can take her?”

She nods. “Now?”

“Yeah, you’re ready, right, Harp?”

Harper nods happily. I stoop to kiss her, but she’s already out the door, starting down the stone walkway. My heart lurches. I want to run after her, scoop her up and hold her one last time, squeeze her until she squirms out of my arms, giggling.Mo-om, stop!But I don’t. Soon, it’ll just be her and me, together.

“See you soon,” I call after them. I lift a hand, wave.

Sloane turns back. “See you soon,” she echoes.

29

I shut the door and go up the stairs, taking them two at a time. From our bedroom window, I watch Sloane and Harper begin their walk from our house to Anne-Marie’s. It’s a five-minute walk there, ten minutes round-trip, longer, of course, if she goes in to chat.

Either way, I don’t have much time.

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