Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
She giggles, and I watch her eyes take in my outfit. Yep, same one. The wheels start to spin, and she turns toward Ben, most likely assessing if he’s in the same—
“Wow, coffee. You shouldn’t have!” I win this one. She stops and looks back at me.
“Yeah, thought you might need some. Try it first. I may have put too much sugar in it.” She hands me the coffee as she walks in. “Super fun party last night. Speaking of, I couldn’t get a good read on Ben. Any chance you put in a good word for me? I didn’t realize you all hung out so much, girl. You should have mentioned it.”
Oh, the things I should have mentioned. “It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out. I really don’t even remember him.” Horrible friend. Even worse liar. I follow her to the couch, place the mug on the coffee table, and sit in the same space I shared with Ben minutes ago.
“It’s cool. Now you can talk to him for me. Get the scoop.”
“Of course.” The words taste bitter coming out of my mouth. But why? Memories of last night return. We made a pact. Friends. Why should I care that she likes him? I didn’t claim him. Do you want to claim him? Yes. No! We wouldn’t work out. There’ll always be that animosity between us. The past. And how could I fall for someone I’ve spent half my life hating?
Maybe it wasn’t hate. . .
Shut up, conscience.
“Totally. All over that.”
She smiles huge, and I deflate, feeling like a jerk.
She takes a sip of her coffee. “So good. Try yours! It’ll help your hang—”
Another knock sounds on the door. My nerves are heightened, fearing Ben had a change of heart and came back, deciding to spill the beans. What beans would he be spilling? I don’t know! That this is a fake friendship and there’s nothing innocent about our intentions?
“You going to get that?”
“Yeah.” I shoot up. “Why wouldn’t I answer my own door?” I trip over my feet and stumble to the door, throwing it open. “Hey, hello—”
“Ms. Fischer?”
Okay, not Ben. . . “Yes?”
“My name is Angelica Billson. My sister and her husband live next door?”
I look at the older woman, seeing the resemblance. “Yes, of course. How are they enjoying their trip?”
“That’s the thing. Edith and Jerald never mentioned they were taking a trip. And it’s not like my sister to leave without calling me.” There’s deep concern in her tone.
“Oh. . . well, I just got back home. They were gone before I came back. But, you know, my friend Jenny is the one house-sitting. Maybe she can help you.” I turn to address Jenny, but she’s not on the couch. “Jenny? She was just here.” Where the heck did she go?
“If you hear anything, I would appreciate it if you gave me a call. I’m getting worried.”
“Yeah, sure. When my friend gets back, I’ll ask if she knows anything.” She hands me a piece of paper with her phone number written on it, then nods her goodbye and walks down my driveway to her car.
I close my front door. When I turn back around, Jenny’s returned. “Where’d you go? The neighbors—”
“Oh, I know who she is. She keeps harassing me. It’s getting ridiculous. I’m about to call the police. Whatever is going on with her and her sister is not my problem. I’m just housesitting. Clearly, she didn’t want her to know she was leaving. I didn’t want her to see me here and start to harass you too.”
“Huh. I never remembered them having any problems. Then again, I was young, so maybe I just didn’t—”
“Honestly, people have a way of hiding their skeletons. Trust me. Everyone has secrets.”
Isn’t that the truth. I think about the secrets I’m harboring. The pit in my stomach returns as my mind goes to Christopher. All the lies. Deception.
“You okay?”
I blink. “Yeah. Just thinking about something—or someone.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s just. . .” I return to the couch and plop down. “You mentioned secrets. Well, I guess I have one. I was married. It’s not something I like talking about.”
Jenny sits down next to me and rests her palm on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did something happen? Did he leave you?”
“No, actually. I left him. He was cheating on me.” She offers me the one thing I didn’t want: a sympathetic gaze.
“Oh, Makayla, I’m so sorry. How anyone can do that to someone is terrible. I hope you’re done with him.”
“Oh, trust me, I am. He’s the one who won’t let it go.”
Her brow raises, and I lean forward, reaching for my coffee. “The first time I found out was over a year ago. He was cheating and got caught. It was like he wanted to get caught. Of course, he denied it at first, but when I said ‘done’ and ‘divorce,’ he came clean, telling me what a mistake he’d made. The other woman meant nothing to him. I didn’t care what she meant to him; the damage had already been done. He swore he would do everything to make things right. Cut it off with her. And for a while, I believed him. That trust had been broken, but I was willing to try for the sake of our marriage.”