“I can’t tell you alone. I promised. It isn’t only mine to tell.”
“Promised who?”
“Please. We’re stopping at your mom’s on the way home tomorrow. She’s expecting us at noon. Everything will make sense there.”
“My mom?” I almost laughed. “What does my mother have to do with you and my husband?”
“Everything,” Paige said. “And nothing. Mer, please.”
At seven in the morning, I packed my bag and called a car service to take me back to Harlow Creek. Two and a half hours, two hundred dollars. I didn’t care. I wasn’t getting into a car with her.
She stood on the cottage porch with her own bag at her feet and watched me go.
“Mer,” she called as the car pulled out. “Please go to your mom’s. Even if you never speak to me again. Please.”
I didn’t look back.
The driver was an older man with a gray ponytail who played soft country music and didn’t try to talk. I sat in the back seat and stared out at the ocean disappearing behind the dunes.
