Page 29 of Count My Lies

I stare back, momentarily struck dumb. Even though I’ve been hoping to run into him, I hadn’t imagined that I actually would. I blink a few times, wondering if I’m hallucinating. When he doesn’t disappear, I decide that I’m not.

“Hi,” I say finally. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he answers. He smiles, giving me a once-over, his surprise turning to amusement.

I glance down at my outfit. Jeans ripped at the knee, my oversized hoodie pulled tightly around my face like the little kid from ET. High fashion. Haute couture. I wish I could loosen the strings, but, you know, the fucking coffee. I feel my face flush. At least I did my eyebrows, thank god.

“What can I do for you?” Jay asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “I mean, I’m here for Violet. Is she home? We had plans to have coffee.” I hold up the two cups in my hands as evidence. “She didn’t mention I was stopping by?”

He shakes his head again. “She’s still dropping Harper off at school. I was in the shower when she left. She should be back any minute, though.” He glances at his watch. “It usually doesn’t take her this long.”

I shift again from one foot to the other. “It’s okay. I can wait outside—”

“No, no,” he says. “Come in. I was just finishing breakfast,” Jay says, flashing a grin at me. He opens the door wide and motions me inside.

I step through the threshold, into their entryway, then follow him into the kitchen. “Want anything?” he asks over his shoulder. “Toast? Eggs?”

“I’m fine.” I shake my head. “I’m not usually a breakfast person.” Although, I might be, if I got up early enough to make myself anything. “The coffee is plenty.”

On the counter, there’s a plate with a half-eaten piece of rye toast and a mug of coffee, still steaming. I perch on a bar stool, setting both cardboard cups down in front of me.

The heat is on in the house, so I shrug out of my hoodie, although the boxy T-shirt I have underneath isn’t much better in terms of flattering. I desperately wish I’d spent an extra five minutes getting ready this morning.

I set my purse on the bar stool next to me, and when I hear it clunk, I remember what’s inside. “Oh!” I say, reaching into it and pulling out the copy ofAnd Then There Were None. “Here.” I hand the book to Jay, who takes it from me, looking at it in surprise. “You said you might want to read it,” I add. “When we met at the park.”

I’ve been carrying it around for almost two months now. I’d planned on giving it to him the night that Violet invited me over for dinner, but he went upstairs to put Harper to bed before I’d had the chance. I keep telling myself to give it to Violet to give to him, but I haven’t. I’ve wanted to do it myself. It feels like something special between us, just for the two of us.

Jay studies the cover, nodding slowly. For a minute, I think he might not remember our conversation, and I start to feel sick, hands getting clammy. But then he looks at me, a smile spreading across his face, his gold-flecked eyes bright. “Thanks,” he says. “Really, thanks. I can’t wait to read it.”

I smile back. The knot in my stomach unwinds, my limbs loosening with pleasure.

We’re still smiling at each other when my phone buzzes. I pick it up off the counter. It’s a text from Violet.Sorry, got stuck at school, heading home now!

I feel a brief flash of disappointment. I don’t want her to come back yet. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment to materialize, to see Jay again. When Violet walks in, everything will change. The electricity I feel will dissipate. He’ll leave for work, and it’ll be just Violet and me again. Then I’m flooded with shame. What’s wrong with me? Violet is my friend. And Jay is hers, not mine. He never was, never will be. I shake the disloyal thoughts from my head.Be better, Sloane, I think.

Quickly, I type back.No worries! Jay let me in. See you soon!

“It’s Violet. She says she’s on her way home,” I say, looking back up at Jay.

He nods and tosses the towel he used to dry his hair on the counter, then picks up his coffee. “So, how’s my patron saint?” he asks, smilingat me. “I haven’t seen you since dinner. I’m not sure how I’ve kept myself safe without you.”

I blush. “I’m good,” I say. “Busy.”

“So saving lives one bee sting at a time? No time for needy dads?”

I smirk. “That’s right. I race from park to park, ice pack and tweezers in hand. Batgirl’s second cousin: Beewoman.”

He laughs. “Our own local superhero.” Then, smile fading, he says, “You and Violet have been spending a lot of time together.” I’m not sure if he’s asking a question or stating the obvious, given that I’m on their payroll. Violet pays me each week in cash, crisp bills inside sealed white envelopes. I wonder if he’s the one to make the withdrawals, or if she is. “And Harper says you make the best snacks.”

I smile. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“She really likes you,” Jay says. “And so does Violet.”

It thrills me to hear him say that. “I like them, too. Violet’s been a good friend to me.” My best friend. I don’t say it to Jay, but it’s true.

There’s a silence as he considers this, then—“Has she said anything to you about us?” he asks. The shift in tone is abrupt. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he opens the dishwasher and begins to unload some silverware. I think maybe I’ve misheard him.

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