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Lily looks out the window. I wait in silence while she works through her thoughts. “The risks...” she finally says, her voice trailing off.
I squeeze her hand and briefly meet her eyes as I steer into the dialysis center parking lot. “It will save you from having to go through dialysis. Your insurance isn’t covering enough of it, not if you want to keep the house.” I motion to the building. “Once this is done, you’ll get another chance. You can heal up. Move back home.” I turn off the car, facing her. Squeezing her hand, I stare at her. “This is a common procedure. Doctors do lots of kidney transplants.”
She squeezes my hand. “Are you sure about this?” Her eyes narrow, and her grip is steel. “Really sure? This is a huge decision you’re making.”
“I’m certain. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
She searches my face. I’m not sure what answer she’s trying to find, so I wait. Finally, she nods. “All right. We’ll do it. But I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” Her voice shakes with emotion.
“I love you, Lily.” I lean forward to squeeze her.
“I love you back, sweet girl,” she whispers.
After her dialysis, I drive Lily home. I leave my phone in the car as I help her in. When I get back and buckle up, I check it. There’s a message from Violet.
You need to see this. She sent a link, too, and I click.
There’s a picture of me at the pawnshop. I’m standing at the front counter, speaking with the clerk, Tex. I learned his name the second time I went in to ask him how much he might give me for Lily’s antique sewing machine. This must have been the time I sold some of her mother’s jewelry. Lily didn’t even want to see the jewelry before I sold it, said it would be too painful.
A quick skim of the link reveals another picture. It’s Duke kissing me at the charity event. I suck in a quick breath.
Scrolling to the top, I begin the article under the pawnshop photograph and go icy cold. I grew up poor, the daughter of an addict, and I’ve been called a lot of names in my life, but this word salad of an article takes the cake.
My heart pounds as I read it through, but I don’t get the full idea of it because my mind keeps snagging on new and painful insinuations. A gold digger, that’s what it calls me. A girl who fell into a sweet situation and is eager to capitalize. Duke is my victim, a widower who fell for a pretty face. Someone I’m trying to get to fix all my problems. I’m manipulative and greedy.
I reread it, and this time I pause on my mother’s name. Prostitution. I squeeze my eyes closed, but the word is still there, I’m sure. It’s not a surprise. I always suspected, but seeing it printed is mortifying. Shame whips at my stomach, making me nauseous. I swallow hard and keep reading.
Lily. It talks about Lily, brings up her financial problems. Anger flares, wiping out my self-pity, and I welcome it. How dare they talk about Lily like that?
As I continue to scroll, stewing in a toxic mix of shame and fury, I stop at the mention of the kidney donation. I drop my phone into my lap to stare out the window like the answers to all of my problems are out there.
Did Duke see this yet? I wince. Probably. If Violet forwarded it to me, it’s probably common knowledge. Or, if it isn’t, it’s about him, so he’ll find out. But I don’t have any messages from him. The team had practice today, before they leave tomorrow for another stretch of away games, so maybe he hadn’t had a second away.
This isn’t how I hoped to tell him about my kidney surgery, but I guess I can’t change that now.
Starting the car, I drive home, my brain attempting to do damage control. Tabby’s too young to see the article, but will Tabby’s school see it? If Ms. Shepherd planned to recommend me for the substitute position, I bet the article will make her think twice.
I’m sure Duke and I can come up with a way to smooth this over. Last night, he said this thing between us isn’t casual. He cares about me, and I care about him. That article might make it seem dirty, but it isn’t. Not to me, and hopefully not to him.
I’ll need to move out, though. If we’re going to continue to see each other, I can’t live with him and Tabby. It’s inappropriate, especially now with this article airing everything. These public conversations are exactly what the communication director warned against when I got hired. I don’t even want to think about how they might affect Tabby. I can probably stay with Lily for a day or so, but then I’ll need to find somewhere else to live. Violet mentioned she’s got a spare room. Maybe she’d agree to a roommate.
My head spins as I turn onto our street. Duke’s car is parked out front, and I pull in next to it. He’s not supposed to be home until dinnertime. My stomach swirls. He must have seen the article. Well, best to tackle head on. “Duke,” I call, throwing open the side door. “Are you here?”
“I’m in the living room,” he responds, and I follow the sound of his voice. I find him staring out the window at the pool.
“Hey.” I pull my crossbody bag over my head. “I assume you’re home because of the article.”
Turning, he nods. His face is grim. “Raybourne pulled me in this morning.”
That was her name. Ms. Raybourne, the head of the communications department. Not good. “I see.” I inhale a steadying breath. “What are we going to do?”
He waits. Finally, he asks, “Is any of it true?”
I still, and the question hits me in the middle of the chest, like a physical blow. “What?”
“The article. Is any of that stuff true?”
I can only blink at him. When I walked in the door, I figured we would work through this together. If I’m important to him, if we’re a couple, then that’s what we would do—take on obstacles as a team. But as I stare at him, I realize this isn’t a working partnership—this is an interrogation.
