He had just left for an evening pickleball game (you really couldn’t take the Arizona out of the boys, apparently), and since then, I’d been sitting on the couch, staring at Detective Rodriguez’s number while my stomach growled.
I had three options, plain and simple.
One: Talk to the detective and give him the truth that would also condemn a man I was pretty sure I still loved like crazy, even if I was also crazy mad at him.
Two: Lie and possibly condemn myself while covering for said man, who had potentially done something truly terrible.
Three: Talk to Ronan and figure this out together.
If I could trust him, that is.
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “I’m going to be divorced before I’m twenty-eight, aren’t I?”
As if in answer, my phone buzzed in my lap.
I answered it immediately. “Hey, Megs.”
“So, I’ve been thinking about your situation,” she said without so much as a greeting.
I slumped against a cushion. I’d called her immediately after speaking with the detective, but we hadn’t been able to talk since. I didn’t want to tell my dad what was going on until I’d figured it out for myself. Maybe things were on a good path now, but that had only been for a few hours.
Processing was what best friends were for, anyway.
“You need to do three things. First, call that detective back and tell him you need a lawyer present before answering any questions?—”
“Already did that.”
“Okay, good. Second, I actually do think you should call Ronan, if just to get his side of the story. It’s super weird that he asked you for an alibi?—”
“Which he took back,” I found myself adding. “Don’t forget that.”
“Which he took back. But it’s worth exploring. Also, I don’t think you should tell him the cops called.”
I rubbed my chest. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that at all. To start, I wasn’t sure I could lie to Ronan that way.
“I don’t think I can do that,” I told her. “I don’t think I can face him at all.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll give you a script. You just need to hype yourself up first.”
There it was again—the familiar flutter in my chest, and just at the thought of lying to Ronan. I closed my eyes, willing it to stop, but it didn’t. Not with three rounds of box breathing or another vagal maneuver.
I fought dizziness as I stood, keeping my phone close while Megan jabbered on about inner strength and retribution.
“Uh-huh,” I said as I managed to get into the bathroom and locate my pills in my clutch.
There was one pill left in the little container. I’d left the rest of my pills in Boston.
Crap.
I ran the faucet and took a pill with water cupped in my hands.
“So you see,” Megan was finishing. “You don’t have to face him, babe. There are three thousand miles between you, and he doesn’t know where you went.”
“I mean, he probably does now that I turned my phone back on. Location services are off now, but I didn’t do it until this morning.”
Yes, I could have done it last night on the plane. No, I didn’t bother, nor was I interested in figuring out why.
“Well, even if he does, it would take him six hours to get here. It’s just a conversation. You’ll have to have it eventually, so you might as well figure out what you’re going to say.”
