“You think he was telling the truth,” Olivia presumes.
Her friend since college freshman orientation sips her wine. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Olivia settles beside Amber on the porch steps. “He was telling the truth.”
“Yep.”
She extends a skinny jean–clad leg and pulls out the single Marlboro and lighter she’d tucked in her front pocket before Blaze showed up. She knew she’d need a smoke after he left, a nasty habit she’d picked up in San Francisco when she worked seventy-plus-hour weeks. Something to take the edge off when exercise and sex couldn’t. The other side of her California king will be cold tonight and exercise isn’t on the agenda. She has too much work to do before she turns into a pumpkin. And that damn recurring nightmare is back. Good thing sleep isn’t a priority.
She lights up and inhales. Sensing Amber’s hesitation, she exhales a long stream of smoke before muttering, “Out with it.”
Amber sighs. “You know Shane’s an idiot—whoa.” She perks up. “Check out that car.”
Olivia looks across the lawn. A pristine, two-door Lincoln Continental pulls up to the curb and rolls to a stop within a hairbreadth of Amber’s red Tesla. The driver, an elderly woman with her nose in the air to peer over the dash and her seat pulled forward enough to kiss the steering wheel, shifts the car into park, leaving the engine to idle.
Amber whistles. “Wow. That car’s mint. ’77 or ’78?”
“Something like that,” Olivia says absently, watching the people inside the metallic blue antique. There’s a kid in the front passenger seat. He can’t be older than fourteen. Probably the woman’s grandson. They stare blatantly at Olivia and Amber through the open passenger window.
“Are you having a yard sale?” the woman asks.
Laughter bubbles from Amber. “Take the lot of it. It’s yours,” she says for Olivia’s ears only.
Olivia’s heart pounds wildly. There’s something familiar about the boy. She nudges Amber’s thigh, a warning to behave. “No, sorry. Cleaning house.”
The woman nods, then murmurs a few words to her passenger. The boy gets out of the car, slides on a backpack, and shuts the door. The woman waves and, after backing up, pulls away from the curb.
“Where’s she going?” Olivia asks, alarmed.
The car crawls to the end of the street and turns the corner.
“Did she just leave that kid?”
“Maybe he’s a neighbor,” Amber says.
Maybe, but doubtful. Olivia hasn’t seen him around here.
The boy turns, thumbs tucked under the shoulder straps, and looks up at them on the porch. His chin quivers and Olivia swears his legs tremble.
She inhales sharply. He isn’t a neighbor. The brown hair under the flat-billed Padres cap, the almond shape of his eyes, and the slope of his nose, even the hesitant tilt of his head and body stance, tell her exactly who he is. This boy is identical to her baby sister, Lily, when she was his age. A sister Olivia hasn’t seen in fourteen years.
“Josh.”
CHAPTER 3
Olivia was in her fourth year at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco when her dad made an unexpected visit. Dwight took her to lunch at the Hog Island Oyster Co., and halfway through a bowl of buttery clam chowder, he told her Lily was pregnant.
Olivia was shocked. Her sister was only sixteen. She asked about the father. Did Lily have a boyfriend? Who was she dating? Olivia didn’t know, and her mom never mentioned anything. She couldn’t say whether Lily ever dated. She was on the JV swim team. She was setting state records. Her practice and travel schedules didn’t permit time for dating.
But who was she to say Lily didn’t have a secret guy? She and Lily weren’t close, not like they had been when they were younger, before Lily drifted to Lucas, leaving a wedge between Olivia and her younger siblings.
Dwight rested a hand over Olivia’s and the creased skin around his eyes softened. His gaze dipped to the table.
“What?” she asked, feeling a twinge in her chest.
“It’s Ethan.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dwight squeezed her hands. “Your Ethan. He’s the father.”
“No,” she whispered. Her neck and chest heated, tingling in reaction to her denial. “No.” She leaned back in her chair, putting as much distance as possible between her and what Dwight was telling her. The clam chowder sloshed around her stomach, making her nauseous.
How was this possible? she wondered, knowing exactly how possible it was. Convenient even. Ethan took the semester off to tend to his mom, who was recovering from an auto