Page 31 of Plain Sight

And lift again.

Until they meet mine.

I don’t look away. I don’t care if he sees me. What’s he going to see, anyway? A guy sitting on the roof? I’m nobody to him.

I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think his eyes were gray.

When I go back the next night, the apartment stays dark.

I think Mason’s happy that I’m coming home every night and going to work every day. He seems relaxed, and I like that. I really do.

“Married life suits you,” Remy says one day a couple weeks out from the anniversary. We’re in the living room with an episode of Downton Abbey. Mason’s chef made absurdly huge bowls of popcorn with little candies inside. Mason and Charlotte are curled up on the couch. Robin’s asleep on Mason’s chest. Gabriel and Elise are sprawled throughout the living room.

“Maybe I should’ve gotten married sooner.”

Remy shakes her head. “It had to be Lily.”

Lily comes into the room then in a pair of my sweatpants and one of my long-sleeved shirts.

“I know I’m not actually showing.” She drops down next to me and curls up at my side. “But your clothes are so comfortable.”

“I hear that happens when it’s the father of your child,” Remy says.

Lily blushes all the way to her hair. “You’re teasing.”

“Yeah,” Remy laughs. “I am. But Jameson does have comfortable clothes.”

Jamie, I almost say. Remember when you used to call me Jamie? But there’s no way to explain that. Listen, I know I’ve insisted on being called Jameson since you were seven, but I changed my mind. I had a talk with Mom about it, and she thinks it would be better if I told all of you I’m going insane.

That would ruin Downton Abbey night. It might even ruin popcorn with candy in it, depending on how badly my siblings took the news.

Jamie, my mom says, mildly scolding.

“I do have comfortable clothes. The fucking best.”

“Jameson, shh. Mr. Carson is about to solve the big problem and pour the wine,” Remy whispers.

“He’s doing a hell of a job.”

In moments like this, when there’s a giant bowl of buttered popcorn on my lap and Lily at my side and Remy being genuinely proud of a fictional butler named Mr. Carson, it almost feels real.

Being fine, I mean. For a few seconds at a time, I feel like I could keep the mask on forever. Let the crime scene part of me die a quiet, unremarkable death.

Three hours later, I step into the night.

Being fine is a fantasy. Hopes and dreams are bullshit.

Killing a guy? That could come true.

8

LILY

Getting kidnapped on my wedding day: not ideal.

Not going on a honeymoon: truly fine.

Having my new husband stop sleeping and sneak out almost every night since I officially became Lily Hill: really, really bad.