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The girls are gone, and we drop our asses into their discarded chairs. Wes raises his eyebrows at me, waiting.
"Dude, I can’t."
He presses his lips in a white slash, but he doesn’t push me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Almost two days.That was how long it took before I finally found Rhys McGuire. But it didn’t actually take me that long to find the boy. The majority of the time, I spent finding Margot a new driver and chauffeuring her around. Who the fuck would’ve expected that it was that hard to find a new personal driver in a city with four million people? It was like Margot’s previous employees had banned together and warned everyone in the business about her.
This afternoon, I finally found someone who either didn’t know about my fiancée’s eccentrics of not walking more than ten feet from the car to wherever she is going or didn’t care because I doubled the salary. Two more days of driving her and I would’ve tripled it.
Now, I’m sitting at my desk, three monitors in front of me, reviewing all the information about Rhys McGuire I was able to dig up in an hour. I was a little surprised to find very little about him. He has two social media accounts, but none of the information is public. I have to dig into some not-so-easily-accessible records to figure out that he lives in Westbridge, Virginia with his parents and two sisters.
Another thirty minutes into it and I’m looking at a picture from last year’s yearbook of Westbridge High’s gymnastics team. I almost can’t believe it, but there she is, more beautiful than ever. Under the picture, I scan the name for the third time: Lilly McGuire.
I marvel at how much she has grown up. A lot of her features are the same, her light-blonde hair untouched, no high or lowlights like every other girl or woman out there. Her hazel eyes sparkle with life. She is a natural beauty.
Besides this picture, there are only two more in the entire yearbook. One is of her and a girl from the gymnastics team, Denielle Keller. They’re hugging in front of a banner that reads: Congratulations, WHS Gymnastics! District Champs! The other picture is her yearbook picture. Her hair is draped over one shoulder, and she smiles at the camera, though it’s not the same natural smile as in the other two.
Over the next seven hours, I track everything I can find in Lilly McGuire’s minuscule online presence. The clock at the top of my screen reads 5:12 a.m. My eyes are burning, but I stare, satisfied, at the results displayed in front of me.
Ten years ago, I wasn’t aware of Heather and Tristen McGuire or their relationship to Lilly and her parents. From what I know now, they moved two months before Lilly entered my life, and back then, I didn’t bother with her past. A mistake that has made me miss ten years.
Besides her new parents, she has a brother—hello again, Rhys—and a little sister, Natty. Neither of them looks anything like her. I wonder how no one ever asked questions. It is so obvious.
I compile a list of her friends, as well as what I can find out about the remaining McGuire family members’ acquaintances, occupations, and hobbies. Thankfully, besides Lilly’s immediate family, most of them have a very well-documented social media presence, which makes that part of my research, once again, laughably easy. You gotta love people and their need for validation; the more likes the better, and the more they post. Especially that Katherine girl I found connected to her brother, Rhys.
I do wonder if the minimal online activity from all the McGuires has to do with Heather and Tristen’s careers, or in fact, because they were hiding Lilly from the world—from me. I’ll find out soon enough.
Leaning back in my chair, I take one last look at everything before dialing Hank’s number.
"This better be good. I’m still pissed at you," he grumbles half asleep into the phone.
"I’ll fund the project myself. Let’s expand the Virginia operation."
That wakes him up. "I thought you wanted to move to Chicago next. More options and shit."
"Changed my mind," I drawl. "Figure we’ll see how that goes and then maybe add a few more to the mix."
"Well, um, okay. You want me to come with?"
I think that over for a moment. "Nah, I’ll conference you in from there. You keep an eye on the west coast for now."
"Sounds like a plan."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The first weekof school passes pretty uneventfully. Everything is back to pre-Thanksgiving break. Well, as much as it can be after the revelation that my entire life is a big fat lie.
I haven’t figured out my next steps. Despite Denielle hounding me, talking to Heather and Tristen is still out of the question. I go back to my old routine: hang out with Denielle and the girls, go to practice, and get my schoolwork done. Den rarely leaves my side, and the sidelong glances tell me this whole thing has unsettled her as well. But no more Rhys—not at home, and barely at school, which is a relief and a letdown at the same time. His texts have stopped since our match on Sunday, and by Tuesday, I no longer check. I may or may not have chucked my phone across the room when the realization hit—only into the pillows on my bed, of course. I’m not acompletetwit.
At school,I see Rhys in passing between classes, but he is either with his friends or Katherine—usually both, since her tongue seems to be permanently attached to his. Every time I see them together, her hands are somewhere under his clothes, and my teeth automatically clench. Midweek, I have a perpetual cramp in my jaw, and I turn the opposite direction as soon as I spot either of them, which makes me late to class twice. It’s like two years ago all over again.
I’ve just pulledinto our driveway on Friday when Denielle’s name appears on my screen.
Sloane and I are going to Magnolia’s. U in?
I don’t want to be home, but I am physically and mentally drained from this week.
