Page 55 of Count My Lies

“Morning!” Sloane says. She smiles brightly up at us.

I take a seat next to her, begin to rifle through my bag for a granola bar for Harper. “Sorry,” I say apologetically. “We were just meeting the neighbors. They’re staying in the house next to ours.” I point up the bluff to a pale pink house with the same gray-thatched roof as ours. “They have two kids around Harper’s age.”

“One’s named Rooney and one’s named Claire!” Harper pipes in. “Claire is older than me. And Rooney is a boy. But there’s a Rooney in my class that’s a girl.”

Sloane stiffens at the mention of Mockingbird, her jawbone clenching slightly. She probably knows her; Rooney’s mom told me she’s been at the school since she was eighteen months. Then Sloane relaxes her face, smiles widely at Harper. “How lucky!”

“Isn’t it?” I say. “I invited them over later so the kids could play some more. And you can meet the mom. She’s a trip. A real talker. Like, I could barely get a word in.”

Sloane laughs. “Well, I’m glad Harper will have playmates.”

I nod. “But here’s something funny,” I say. “She thoughtIwas the nanny.”

Sloane cocks her head, gives a little snort. “Thatisfunny,” she says. “Why would she thinkthat?”

“I think she saw you and Jay at the grocery store yesterday and assumed the two of you were together.”

Immediately, Sloane’s face flushes. “What’d she say when you told her he wasyourhusband?” she asks.

“I didn’t correct her! I told you, I could barely get a word in edgewise!” I bury my face in my hands in mock embarrassment. “And I didn’t want to make her feel bad, so I just went along with it. I told her my name was Caitlin when she asked!”

“What?”Sloane laughs. “So she thinks you’re the nanny and I’m Harper’s mom?”

I laugh, too, like it’s a delightful mix-up. Oh, tee-hee,hilarious, right?! “Yes! I figured we probably won’t see much of them, what harm would it do?”

“You just said they might come by later!” Sloane says.

“I know, I know! My mistake! Just go along with it, okay? Promise? I’d look like a nutcase if I came clean now.”

Sloane shrugs. “Okay, fine, but itisloony, you know that right?” she asks pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

I laugh again. “I know! Can we talk about something else, please? How’d you sleep last night?” I ask.

She nods. “Like a rock. You should have woken me this morning!”

I wave my hand dismissively. “We’re on vacation,” I say. “And if you were able to sleep through Harper’s meltdown about her toast this morning, then I probably wouldn’t have been able to wake you anyway.”

“It was burnt!” Harper says indignantly. “It would have scratched the roof of my mouth!”

Sloane smiles good-naturedly. “Well, I’m not usually such a heavy sleeper. It was glorious. Although, I did wake up with a nasty sunburn this morning.” She pulls the neck of her shirt to one side to expose a reddened shoulder.

“Ouch!” I say. “We’ll get some aloe at the store later. Here, let’s not make the same mistake today.” I hand her a can of aerosol sunscreen. “Do my back and I’ll do yours. Harper, let me spray you again, too.”

When we’re all sufficiently oiled, we rest our heads back against our chairs, chins tilted toward the sun, our hats shading our faces.

After a few minutes, Sloane asks—casually, of course—“Is Jay—”

“Working.” I finish her sentence without opening my eyes. “He said he’d try and join us later for a bit.”

Obviously, I didn’t talk to Jay before I left, but I assume he’ll come out at some point, happy for an excuse to take his shirt off. And it will give Sloane something to look forward to. It’s impossible to miss the hopefulness in her voice.

And just before noon, he does. I’m in the surf with Harper, running up and back as the waves ebb and flow. She squeals when the water catches her, lapping at her ankles. I see him as he walks over the dune, starting down the sandy slope toward our umbrella. He’s carrying a big brown bag in one hand, and he waves with the other.

Harper starts shrieking when she sees him. She runs to him and leaps into his arms. He swings her around, Harper giggling happily. I force a broad smile onto my face.

“I brought sandwiches,” Jay says, holding up the bag. “I hope everyone’s hungry.” He loves this: looking like the stand-up guy, the good dad. Jay saves the day! What a fucking hypocrite. I smile widely at him as I select the largest one.

When we’re done eating, Harper hops up excitedly. “Can you swim with me, Dad?”

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