Page 44 of Almost Us

“You’ve seen what he’s gone through!” I shout.

She nods. “I have. I’ve seen what you’ve gone through too. That’s why he’s using you. Because you’re the person to convince. If he can make you believe him, others will too. And I could kill him right now if he was in front of me, for doing this to you.”

“Tori,” Paul says softly, intervening.

“No!” she snaps. “This has gone on long enough! She has to face the truth. Alden is gone. Oliver is lying. Maybe he just came up with it to save his ass, or maybe that was the plan from the moment he woke up and saw everything went wrong. Fake amnesia, then miraculously remember and take over his brother’s life. He won’t get away with it.”

I’m stunned by her reaction. Stunned and enraged. How could she think that? We’ve known these guys since we were children.

Paul breaks the frozen tension. “Is there a way to tell the difference between identical twins? Fingerprints?”

Tori flashes him a look. “Don’t entertain this. She needs to face reality.”

My blood pounds in my ears. In our whole friendship, I’ve never been this angry at her. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry at anyone. “No fingerprints on record,” I tell Paul. “But the lawyer is looking for medical records now to find a way to prove his identity.”

Tori faces me from across the counter. “He’s already cost you your business and your reputation. How much more are you going to let him take from you before you accept Alden’s death? Do you want to end up in prison too, for aiding and abetting?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me but love me and suffer because I didn’t recognize him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“And what if you’re wrong and he’s a cold-blooded murderer? A psychopath?”

My hand goes instinctively to rub my stomach as if I’m protecting the baby from her horrible words. It doesn’t escape her attention. As her gaze goes from my abdomen to the wine I refused, then back, I watch her put the pieces together.

“No,” she whispers.

“It’s Alden’s,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “I can’t do this with you anymore. You need help. Professional help. I’m sorry.”

My heart has been broken so many times, I’m not sure how it still beats. Tori’s reaction and accusation shatters it once again. “Go fuck yourself, Tori.”

Both of them call my name as I stalk out, but I’m done. I’m not staying to fight with her when there are people I need to fight for who are depending on me. One of which is growing inside of me.

I stroke my hand over my stomach as I slowly drive home. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “Your daddy is going to be okay. We’re going to get him back, and he’s going to love you so much.”

When I get home, there’s a business card tucked into my door from the journalist who stopped me. I tear it up and leave the scraps blowing around the porch.

It’s been such a terrible day. No dental records. No way to know when or if we’ll be able to prove who Alden is. And now I’ve lost my best friend. She thinks I’m crazy. The house is silent and empty as I strip off my clothes, climb into bed and cry myself to sleep.

CHAPTER11

I’m not sure how I’ve managed to make it through this week without losing my mind. Every day things only get worse as Alden’s evasion catches fire with the media. An online community of true crime enthusiasts latch onto the case and the rumors fly about where he might be hiding and whether or not I was involved with hiring the Warrens. Their involvement only feeds the virality.

Theories and conspiracy theories begin to pop up. People swipe old pictures of me and Alden from friends’ social media and debate over whether it’s Alden or not. They’re trying to prove I was cheating with Oliver before Alden died. One of the most ridiculous ones I’ve seen a group of “internet sleuths” run with is that we had a three way relationship and I’ve been switching off between them our whole adult lives, while only being public with Alden.

The last time, it was my studio that was getting recognized and talked about the most. As long as I wasn’t at the studio, no one seemed to recognize me. Sure, they talked shit online, but that can be ignored. Now, I’m getting recognized in public. It’s mostly been stares and whispers, but I’ve seen people taking my picture or recording me. Two more journalists have tried to contact me since the first guy. Apparently, the amnesia element makes for a really good story.

It's exhausting. I barely leave the house but today I need to get some things. Instead of shopping for groceries, I do a pick-up to avoid people. Afterward, I run inside the drugstore for the prenatal vitamins the obstetrician told me to take. I’m relieved that there are very few customers and no one appears to give me a second look while I pay for the vitamins.

Police are almost always parked at one end of my street or the other—sometimes it’s a squad car, sometimes an unmarked car—but when I return this time, Detective Ramos is waiting in front of my house with another officer.

“He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since he took off, and I don’t know where he is,” I announce, popping my trunk and grabbing my three bags of groceries.

Ramos steps up. “Let me help you with that.”

“No thank you. If you came to search, go do it, so I can get back to my day.”

They follow me up the steps and inside. The officer with him begins to walk through my house while Ramos accompanies me into the kitchen. “Do you really think he’s stupid enough to come back here?” I ask.

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