Page 170 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Mrs. Capshaw is expecting you. Floor fifteen.” He gives a curt nod toward the elevator bank. I walk away from him, feeling small.

The Gramercy is a big step up for Avery. The plastic surgeon she hooked and married not long after our divorce can certainly keep her in the lifestyle she loves. Personally, the vibe in this part of town makes me itch. I’m happy not to live here anymore. I never felt like I belonged, no matter how much money my family has. Wealth is part of who I am and where I come from, but showing it off the way it’s done in this part of town isn’t my style. I’d rather be known for my ideas, my work, than what color my credit card is.

The elevator moves so fast, my ears pop, and when the door opens on Avery’s floor, our brief phone call comes back to me. Ihaven’t seen her since we signed the final divorce papers in an office downtown that smelled like pine and smoke. Hearing from her was unexpected but not unwelcome. I was angry with her for awhile but also understand that had it not been for Marianne’s overwhelming influence, we’d probably still be married. Avery’s grief and desire to belong left her wide open for Marianne to manipulate.

In short—I don’t blame Avery for realizing she wanted more than I was able to give her. I also understand that the memories we share aren’t good ones. I smooth my tie as I stand before her door, taking a breath to prepare to face her again. She wouldn’t say why she wanted to meet—wouldn’t give me a topic or a reason when I asked, only that she wanted to speak with me privately about “something.”

She sounded calm enough, so it hadn’t raised any alarm bells, but I question the timing. I’ve been on the news a lot lately, and I understand my party’s positions aren’t exactly popular with the residents of Manhattan. Avery’s not a political person, but I don’t know this Capshaw guy she married or if he has his own agenda.

“You look nice,” I tell her, revealing my first impression. She’s in high-waisted jeans that fit her like a second skin and a pale blue shirt the color of her eyes. Her hair is down, perfectly styled, like she came straight from the salon.

“You look stressed,” she says, stepping aside for me.

I grapple over whether to give her a hug or not. She splits the difference, rubbing my arm and offering a warm smile. “Thanks for coming. Sorry for the cloak and dagger, but I thought it wouldn’t be smart to be seen in public together.”

“Are you planning to tell me what this is about?”

“Well…yeah. No time for small talk, huh?”

Some version of me would apologize, but I don’t know that guy anymore. He’s been replaced by someone with no personality until a camera is on him. “Sorry,” I tell her. “You’re right. I’m stressed. Not getting much sleep.”

“Well, I have a favor to ask. Do you have the bandwidth for that?”

“Honestly, it depends on the favor. If it has anything to do with legislation, I’ve already got my hands full.”

“It doesn’t. Come and sit.”

I follow her to a cozy living area decorated in warm neutrals and faux fur throws. She takes a seat in an armchair, and that leaves me with the couch. I’m surprised at how much emotion surges just from being in the same room with her again. Our marriage may have been a sham, but the miscarriage was as real as it gets. I never felt like I did enough to help her through that—too busy drowning my own misery in Silas. My guilt moves front and center once again. If I have to scrape the edges of my souls, I’ll dig up some bandwidth to deal with whatever she wants. It’s the least I can do.

“Do you still talk to Silas?” she asks.

One question, and it feels like she’s aiming a gun at me. I stare at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. For a moment, I wonder if she’s seen it. The recording I watch more times a day than I care to admit. Is this a trick? A test? “No.”

“Because he’s suing me. I didn’t know if you knew that.”

“He’s…” I can’t wrap my mind around it. I shake my head to clear the sudden fog. “I’m sorry, he’s what?”

“He’s suing me for releasing a sex tape.”

I stop myself from asking which one. There’s only one she would know about. “The one Marianne released?”

She nods, lips pursed in annoyance.

“He’s suing?”

“Yep.”

“I haven’t spoken to him,” I tell her again.

“Well…would you mind? I don’t really think it’s fair that my new husband has to pay for a mistake my old husband made.”

Those words light a small fire in my chest. “I’m not the onewho hired a private detective to blackmail a good divorce settlement out of my family.”

She flips her hair with an air of indignation. “So you’re saying I could’ve just asked?”

“I feel like that would have been a better place to start, yeah.”

She sighs, rubbing her forehead and letting her hand fall limply onto the arm of the chair. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry, truly. But do I deserve this?”

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