Listen for the Lie(79)

“No. No one remembers seeing you anywhere out of the ordinary.” He points across the room. “The restrooms are that way, right? Let’s take a walk down there.”

My heart thumps frantically as I follow him across the room. I take a slow breath. There’s no reason to be nervous. I’m walking through an empty wedding venue.

Savvy’s in the hallway, wearing her pink dress, holding a bloody knife. She grins and holds it up to Matt’s face as he walks by her.

“You’re always just using whatever’s around,” she says. “Be prepared, like a Boy Scout! Bring your own murder weapon!”

I shake my head, willing the image away.

We turn a corner. I stop. I look to my left.

There’s a door to the outside, sunlight shining through the small square window like it’s beckoning us over to it.

“I think I went that way,” I say.

“Outside?” Ben asks. “Why? You hate outside.”

I almost laugh as I walk to it. “I know. But I think I did.”

I push the door open, squinting in the bright sunlight. There isn’t much on this side of the building. Just a dumpster, way down at the other end of the building, and what looks like the remains of a broken canopy resting against the brick.

“Are you sure?” Matt stands with Ben in the doorway. “The outdoor area where people were smoking is on the other side.”

I take another step. There’s a little alcove, currently filled with several nearly empty cans of paint.

I can feel the brick against my back suddenly. I can smell fresh paint as lips press into mine. One of the straps of my dress has slipped down, and there’s a hand on my breast. I kiss him again. It’s a man. I can still feel the way he smashed his lips into mine.

“Lucy,” Ben says.

“Lucy,” Savvy said sharply.

I jolt. I remember the air on my breast as he’d moved his hand. I’d pulled my strap back up while she stared at me with an expression—anger? Was she mad?

I try to see the guy. I can’t. I can feel his breath against my lips. His hips grinding into mine. But there’s just empty white space when I try to see his face.

“Let’s go,” Savvy barked, and turned on her heel.

And then there’s nothing. I don’t know whether I said goodbye to whoever the guy was. I don’t know whether I followed her right away. Maybe I stayed and had sex with the mystery man. The way he was grinding his hips into mine, we may have been headed that way.

I look at Matt.

“What?” he says. “You remember why you were out here?”

One thing’s for sure. The guy wasn’t Matt.

And whoever it was, he hasn’t bothered telling anyone.

“No,” I say. “I don’t remember.”

Matt cocks an eyebrow.

He knows I’m lying.





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR


LUCY




I drive Ben back to his hotel and make an excuse for why I can’t stay. I’ve slept over nearly every night for the past week, but he doesn’t argue when I claim I’m exhausted and I’m going back to my parents’ house. He probably wants to edit everything into an episode anyway. He seemed pretty thrilled by today’s turn of events.

I drive across town to my old house. To Matt’s house. He opens the door and steps out onto the porch as soon as I pull up to the curb, like he was waiting for me.

Dammit. I hate how predictable I am.

I walk up the path. Matt sweeps his arms out toward the house, as if welcoming me back. The shutters are open today, the light inside warm and inviting.

“Good timing,” he says. “I was just about to order us some dinner.”



* * *



A tiny part of me thought that maybe Matt had turned over a new leaf and stopped drinking this week after Julia’s episode aired, but I see the loaded bar cart as soon as I step inside. It’s still on the same side of the living room, to the right of the huge teal couch.

The same teal couch that I bought. The same bar cart that I bought.

I stop, looking left and right. There are a few new pieces of artwork—there’s some abstract art that’s either flowers or just some random blobs of blue and yellow paint that I don’t particularly care for—but everything is mostly the same. Beautiful dark hardwood floors, high ceilings, a sleek white kitchen to my right with a huge island in the middle. I always thought that those enormous kitchen islands were the best thing ever, and it turns out I was right.

But it’s weird how much everything looks exactly the same. If I hadn’t known that Matt remarried, I wouldn’t have guessed it walking in. Julia didn’t leave much of a mark on the house. Or even on him, maybe.

“I need a drink,” I say, even though I know I shouldn’t drink with Matt. I should encourage sobriety with Matt. That would be the mature, responsible thing to do for someone you know has a drinking problem.

“A stiff drink,” I continue.

He laughs. “Me too.”

No one here is mature and responsible.

He doesn’t ask what I want; he just grabs the vodka and cranberry, because he knows what I like when I’ve had a hard day.

I sit on the couch (my couch) as he makes the drinks.