The Swap - Robyn Harding Page 0,59

I would never mess up a session with Freya. She must have fallen asleep. Or maybe she was feeling sick.

Propping the lights and tripod against the building, I marched toward the house. As I passed the matching SUVs, I spotted the small blue Mazda. It was Jamie’s car, previously concealed from my view by the larger vehicles. My stomach constricted, and I tasted something metallic on my tongue. It was jealousy. Jamie and Freya were friends again. What did that mean for me?

As I reached out and rang the bell, I tried to calm my racing heart. Freya had told me I was the best friend she had ever had. And she had kissed me on the mouth. I didn’t need to feel threatened by Jamie. What I had with Freya was much deeper, more intense than a simple friendship. And Freya needed me now. Her Instagram was her top priority, and I was essential to its success. Jamie was extraneous.

The door opened and there Freya stood, tanned and gorgeous in a white button-down maternity shirt. “Hey, Low.” She appeared confused by my presence.

“Hi.” My voice was somewhat strangled. “I thought we were filming you in the studio today. You told me to come at three.”

“Shit,” Freya cursed. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry, hon. Jamie’s here.”

“I’ll go get set up,” I suggested. “You can meet me there when you’re done with her.”

“She came for lunch,” Freya explained. “We had a lot to catch up on.” Then she leaned toward me and whispered. “Now I can’t get rid of her.”

But I wasn’t buying it this time. I knew that Freya would go back inside, roll her eyes, and say the same about me.

That was Low. She always shows up here wanting to photograph me. I can’t get rid of her.

She was playing us off against each other. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

“Right,” I said, backing away, trying to hide my pain.

But Freya didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks for understanding, doll. I’ll text you to reschedule.”

With that, she closed the door in my face.

42

I drove home fast, recklessly, my camera equipment rattling in the carriage of my truck. Freya had no respect for me or my time. True, I had nothing else to do, but I’d spent my hard-earned money (plus sixty bucks I’d stolen from Leonard) on lighting equipment to make her look beautiful. And she didn’t even care. She’d dismissed me like a servant, chosen time with Jamie over time with me. I hated her.

“Anger is just misplaced fear,” my mom and dad were fond of saying. When I was little and would throw a tantrum, they’d ask: “What are you afraid of, darling?”

I’m afraid I’m going to bite you if you keep talking to me in that condescending tone.

But now, it made sense. I was scared of losing Freya, terrified of returning to the lonely, solitary existence that predated her. If she chose to banish me, to replace me with Jamie again, I would have no one. The thought filled me with heaviness and darkness.

Pulling into our rutted driveway, I noticed an unfamiliar car parked next to the chicken coop. It wasn’t unusual for my parents or Gwen to have visitors; friends who joined them for potluck meals, or drinks. These friends could sometimes turn into lovers when invited to one of the infamous “sauna parties.” But since Eckhart had been born, my family’s social life had shriveled in the face of his demands.

With my lights and tripod under my arm, I struggled into the house. As soon as I opened the door, my mom called to me. “Swallow? Is that you?”

“Yep,” I replied, kicking off my shoes and propping my equipment in the entryway.

“You have a visitor.”

There was only one person it could be.

“Hi, Low,” Thompson said, as I entered the living room. He was seated on a chintz armchair facing my mom, who was breastfeeding Eckhart, but he jumped to his feet. What was he going to do? Hug me? Kiss my cheek? Shake my hand? I took a step back.

“What are you doing here?” I muttered.

“You haven’t returned any of my texts or DMs, so I thought I’d stop by. Do you want go for pizza or something?”

“It’s three thirty. I’m not hungry.”

“We could go for a drive. Or watch TV. Or play a video game.” He looked toward my mom. “We can go to my place, so we don’t disturb the baby.”

“I’m good,” I said.

My mom suddenly pulled her breast from Eckhart’s mouth with