Page 13 of City of Liars

I was facing away from her, focused on building up the fire. Taking a deep breath, I tossed another log on top of the others and waited for it to catch before turning around. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Maybe you’d feel better if you talked about it.”

Chloe huddled in the oversized, navy-blue armchair, her long, wavy hair flickering gold and cinnamon in the firelight and a notebook open on her knees. She regarded me, propping her chin in her hand. And then she slammed the book shut.

“Fine,” she said, sniffing. “Daddy doesn’t care about me. And before you ask how I know, I’ll tell you. Did you see that woman in the car?”

Oh, no. “What about her?”

She stabbed the pencil she’d been using into the cushion of the armchair, and I bit back an admonition. I’d never liked that chair much, anyway; it had been Gray’s favorite.

“She was there all weekend,” my daughter went on, poking at the hole she’d made. “The whole time I was with him. And he never even asked me if it was okay!”

My heart sank. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. Did you talk to him?”

She looked at me like I’d suggested wakeboarding naked down the Cape Fear. “What for? He doesn’t listen to me. It’s all Luna, Luna, Luna, all day long. Luna likes banana peppers on her pizza, so that’s what we have to have. Luna doesn’t like scary movies, so we can’t watch them. Even her name is stupid. Who names their kid after the moon?”

I went out of my way to never say a bad word about Gray in front of Chloe. No matter how it made me look, given that I’d kicked him out and kept our house, I would never tell her how he’d behaved. Still, there were moments like this one when I wished Chloe were eighteen instead of eight, so I could at least allude to the truth: her father wasn’t a bad guy, but he was a hopeless womanizer. The only constant in his life was change.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” I said instead.

She rolled the dark eyes she’d inherited from Gray. “Like that’ll help. He doesn’t listen to you, either.”

Abandoning the fire, I went over to Chloe and crouched in front of the armchair. She clutched her notebook tighter, her fingers stained with blue and green from the sketch she’d been working on for science class. At the sight of them, my heart clenched.

“Sweetie, no matter how your father might’ve acted this weekend, he loves you. Maybe,” I said, scraping the bottom of my altruistic barrel, “Luna is really important to him, and he wanted you to get to know her. Maybe he wanted her to see how important you are to him. Did you ever think of that?”

“I’m not stupid, Mom.” She glared at me. “He wants to keep Luna-tic around because it’s easier. Like, why should she have to leave just because his kid is there? He said he wants to be au-then-tic.” She sounded out the word. “Plus, she cleans up after him and stuff. He doesn’t even care that weekends are supposed to be our special time together.”

I swallowed, gathering myself. Could there be one man who didn’t let me down? “I’ll talk to him, Chloe. And I’m very sorry he hurt your feelings. Now, I don’t want you to worry about this anymore. Go ahead and finish your homework, and then it’s time for shower and bed.”

She pushed to her feet, lower lip trembling. “You’re not listening to me, either. You treat me like a baby!”

“Honey—” I said in consternation, putting a hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She jerked out of my reach. “Just leave me alone!” Turning her back on me, she stomped out of the room, her bare feet thudding on the worn red Persian rug hard enough to leave an impression in the carpet pile.

It was my day to have people walk out on me, it seemed.

9

Theo

My oceanside deck was textbook Zen, complete with a spectacular late-October view, a salty sea breeze, and my jazz playlist, which hummed over the outdoor speakers. But for the first time since I’d bought this house four years ago, I hadn’t been able to enjoy it. The serene setting and the expensive whiskey I’d been downing for the past hour hadn’t made a dent in my craptastic mood. I’d liked Liv, goddamn it. I still did. And now everything was fucked.

I picked up my cell. Put it down. Picked it up again.

I wouldn’t call her. It was stupid, pointless. The ball was in her court. Either she was willing to talk to her grandmother about the DNA test, or she wasn’t. And if she wasn’t, then she was as culpable as the rest of them.

Still, the need to see her again tugged at me like the tide. I was off-center, unbalanced. The whole scenario had me reeling.

I should apologize. It wasn’t Liv’s fault she wanted to protect her grandmother. She was only a few years younger than my Grandma Susi, who’d be ninety-seven this August. Besides, it had been shitty of me to dump my sordid family story and take off without saying goodbye. I’d barely given Liv a chance to react before I’d leveled her with an ultimatum.

It wasn’t like me. Dave Perez, the co-partner in my venture capital firm, often pondered whether ice water coursed through my veins instead of blood. And yet I’d thrown a tantrum like a three-year-old.

Picking up my phone again, I scrolled through my contacts until I got to Liv’s name. We’d exchanged numbers last night, but that had been before everything went to shit. Would she even take my call?

Aggravated, I set down my drink and glanced out toward the ocean, over which the moon shone, full and bright. And then I shot to my feet.

At the edge of the waves stood a little girl in a white dress, her blond curls gleaming in the moonlight. As I watched, she took one step into the water, then another.