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‘I’ll run you a bath,’ he says, and his voice is rough and low in the heaviness of the room. ‘I’ll grab the pads from the car and sort you some pyjamas.’ He stopped off at a 24-hour convenience shop to stock up on pads.
I curl up on his bed as he leaves. He’ll be gone in a few weeks, and then I’ll have no one. I’ll have no choice but to return to Archer. What am I going to tell him? I wouldn’t be surprised if he reports me missing, but I can’t have that. I can’t have him find me. Not yet. I’m not ready to face him.
As if it heard my thoughts, my phone rings in my purse. I know it’s Archer; he’s called me eleven times already, along with a mirage of texts I have no intention of reading. I wait for it to stop ringing before I call someone else.
Emmy’s voice is thick with sleep. ‘Herlo?’ she mumbles. ‘Whosit?’
I feel bad for waking her, but this is my only option. ‘It’s Frankie. I need to ask a favour.’
I hear shuffling, as if she’s sitting up. ‘Franny? Are you okay?’
‘If Archer reaches out to you, can you tell him I’m at yours? Please, it’s…it’s important.’
A pause. ‘Where are you?’
‘With Chase.’
She gasps. ‘Oh my God, are you—?’
‘No,’ I cut in, knowing exactly what she’s implying. ‘Of course I’m not. I just… Archer—something happened between Archer and I so I’m staying with Chase, at least for a few days. But I can’t tell Arch that because he’ll flip, so I need you to cover for me. Please.’ Archer doesn’t know where Amelia lives, thanks to his steadfast refusal to get to know her at all.
‘Of course,’ Em says at last. I can feel the tumult of questions she wants to ask, and I’m relieved she doesn’t. ‘Anything you need.’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, and hang up.
And then I text Archer.
Need space, staying at Em’s for a bit x
He calls as soon as he reads it, but I switch off the phone just as Chase enters, tea in hand. He hands it to me and sits beside me.
‘Your bath is ready,’ he says.
We’re quiet for a minute, the only sound the pounding of my heart in my ears.
‘Thank you,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Chase looks at me, his gaze searching mine. ‘Anytime. Always. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. I want to feed your blue-tongued skink.’
He smiles at that, dimples and all. ‘It’s his starve day today, but you can observe him. Only his night light is on, but…’ He sets down his mug and takes my hand. ‘Come on.’
‘What’s he called?’ I ask as he guides me through the dark halls.
‘Larry,’ he says, and, despite myself, I burst out laughing.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I’m Not Him
Isit at the kitchen island the next morning, tea in hand, when I hear the front door open. I brace myself, expecting Chase’s uncle. I knew I should have brushed my hair before coming in here.
I’m already half out of my stool when a woman enters, followed by a little girl. The woman says something to her daughter when she spots me, and we both freeze.
We stare at each other.
Is this Genevieve? If so, then Chase has definitely been catfished. The girl I saw in the photo had smooth, tanned skin, but the woman before me seems to be in her thirties, with deep laugh lines beneath her eyes. Hooked under an arm is a sealed canvas, and the case she carries is covered in paint, as are the loose overalls she wears. Even her sandalled feet are splotched with blue. A pencil holds her chestnut hair up in a messy bun.
