Page 151 of Cruel Lies

I don't have that luxury.

I keep mine open the whole way down.

41

CALI

The kids don't want to go to bed.

I should have known they wouldn't. They can always tell when something's wrong with me. I put on my brightest voice and I made spaghetti, which is Isabella's favorite, and I let Hayden talk about hydrothermal vents for thirty-five straight minutes, but none of it was enough to fool them.

"You seem sad, Mommy," Isabella observes as I tuck her in.

"I'm just tired, baby."

She's not buying it. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes that are so much like mine.

"When can we see Mr. Ronan again?"

I have to look away. I pretend to fix the corner of her blanket so she can't see my face.

"I don't know, sweetheart," I say. "Maybe soon."

It's a clean, easy lie, and it comes out of my mouth without a hitch, which makes my self-loathing reach a whole new level. Ipromised I would never do to my kids what was done to me, that I would never look them in the eye and tell them something I knew wasn't true.

And here I am, doing exactly that.

"But he said he'd stay forever," she says. "He promised."

"I know he did, baby."

"Is he coming to say goodnight tonight?"

"Not tonight," I say. "Go to sleep now. I love you."

She frowns, but her eyes are already getting heavy. I kiss her forehead, turn off the lamp, and leave the seashell nightlight on. Then I go across the hall to Hayden's room.

Hayden is harder. He's nine, which means he's old enough to know that something big is happening and I'm not telling him what it is.

"Did you and Ronan have a fight?" he asks.

"Something like that."

"Was it a big fight or a little fight?"

I sit on the edge of his bed. "A big one, bud."

He thinks about that. "But you'll make up, right? You always tell me and Bella to make up when we fight."

"That's different, honey."

"How?"

I don't have an answer for him. Nor for any of it, really. So I just brush his hair back off his forehead and tell him it's late and heneeds to sleep, and soccer camp is tomorrow, and he has to be rested.

"Goodnight, Mom," he says. He's already turning over, burrowing into his pillow.

"Goodnight, my whole heart."