Page 113 of The Breakup Artists

“You look a lot like Piper,” she says.

“That’s kinda true of all our family,” I say in a Hail Mary effort at keeping up our story. “Well, except Holden. No one knows where he gets—”

“You meanJonah,” she says, and I freeze.

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august

“If wehad been made awareof Valentine’s last name, we’d never have come. But you both insisted on first names only,” Ella’s dad seethes, and while he still hasn’t mentioned the kiss, the way he stares at me with disgust makes me feel like he announced it on loudspeaker.

“I apologize, sir,” I say, because honestly, I couldn’t be more annoyed at us, either.

“It’s not your fault,” Ella’s mom chimes in. “We weren’t on the guest list. It was a last-minute add-on type of thing.”

But Ella’s dad isn’t having it. “It most certainly is their—”

Ella’s mom touches her husband’s arm, and he grumbles but stops midaccusation.

I glance toward the water. “I’ll tell Ella you’re looking for her,” I say, cutting the conversation off, anxious to get back to Ella and Tiny.

“Please do,” Ella’s mom says. “I’ll gather our things.”

The instant she finishes speaking, I speed walk toward the dock, feeling like we might actually slip out of this mess. But as I approach Tiny and Ella, I know something’s off. Their body language is stiff and Tiny’s expression is strained.

“When you said Prem and Piper had no kids, the error didn’t occur to me right away. But then I saw you all together—it was hard not to notice your resemblance to your mom,” Ella says, and I stumble over my own foot. “So what I want to know is, why are you and Jonah both lying about who you are?”

Jonah.The realization hits me hard, like a wave that tumbles you in the ocean, scraping your back and legs against the sand before releasing you, gasping for breath.

Ella shifts her eyes to me, full of disappointment.

And suddenly all our mistakes come into crisp focus. If we hadn’t gone to that art store. If Daisy hadn’t been there. If we had spoken to Ella’s parents more. If they hadn’t snagged a last-minute invite. If. If. If.

“The thing is—” Tiny starts on what I imagine is an attempt to twist the narrative.

“August,” I say, cutting her off, knowing our hand is played and we lost. “My name is August.”

Tiny gulps.

“August?” Ella’s upset kicks up a notch. “So you lied about your name not oncebut twice? And about living in my town, about... my god, is everything you saida lie?”

I stare at her, trying to find a way to tell it to her straight. But everything sounds like crap:“We’re kinda what you’d call relationship detectives.” “And it’s actually a good thing your parents hired us.” “You see, your boyfriend is cheating on you.”

Tiny looks at me like,You need to say something.Now.

I open my mouth, but I get cut off.

“Ella, honey, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to leave,” Ella’s mom says, as she and Ella’s dad approach us.

“We just got here,” Ella objects, her annoyance seeping into her tone.

“I have a work situation that’s time sensitive,” her father explains.

“You guys go,” Ella says, keeping her eyes on me. “I’ll call a car.”

“No,” Ella’s mom replies.

Now Ella looks at her parents, frowning. “Please, I just need a minute.” The upset in her voice stakes me through the heart, and her parents shift their focus to me, as though I might explain what’s going on.