Page 47 of The Followers
“It is. Because of why you’re here.”
She stiffened, thinking about Scott and Ella, the questions buzzing through her head. Then realized he wasn’t referring to any of that.
“Because I’m just here temporarily,” she said.
He nodded, then stood. “I don’t want to like someone who’s leaving in six weeks.”
Most guys would be fine with it—most guys she had dated in the past few years had been fine with it. Not just fine, but relieved. No ties, no commitment. She was usually fine with it, too.
“Okay, I get it.” She shrugged, trying for nonchalant. “But what I don’t get is why you’re here, now.”
“I wanted to see you again. Does it have to be any more complicated?” He tilted his head. “Although it looks like you’ve already finished your morning jog. Not feeling up for a real run, I suppose?”
The laugh lines around his eyes warmed her like a fireside on a cold night. But behind the smile was a challenge. He was daring her to see what could happen between them, if only for six weeks.
She stepped toward him, her body tingling at his nearness, and tipped her chin up to look him in the eyes. “I could go another ten miles. See if you can keep up.”
twenty-two
I’ve been following your wife for three days and she hasn’t noticed.
Now that I’m here, I can understand why you picked Durango. It’s off the beaten path, but not so small that everyone is in each other’s business. Plus, all the tourists make it easy to blend in.
I’ve learned something by watching her these past few days: you’re not with your wife very much, are you? You leave her alone a lot.
That’s interesting, Sam. Maybe not so smart. But interesting.
By the way, you should tell your wife to stop posting about every single place she goes. Or to post about it after the fact, not in real time. Made it easy to find her here at the farmer’s market.
I’m guessing she’s used to being watched, because she doesn’t seem to have noticed me. It’s crowded, sure, but I’ve been trailing her for the past thirty minutes. Maybe she’s just oblivious. She has the girls with her—your daughter and your stepdaughter—and they’re having such a lovely time, Sam, smiling and chatting with all the different vendors. Your wife is snapping pictures, the girls are tasting samples, they’re picking out food to take home. So far your wife has purchased heirloom tomatoes, local honey, and a dozen tamales.
Now it looks like she’s meeting up with a friend, a younger woman with short, dark hair.
Wait a second. That woman...
It couldn’t be, could it?
Well, damn. Isn’t that convenient for me.
twenty-three
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are
—E.E. Cummings Quote shared on @InvincibleMollySullivan
Molly lay awake, staring at the green digital numbers on Scott’s alarm clock: 11:48 p.m.
The air conditioner had stopped working earlier that day, and the repair technician couldn’t come out until Monday. She had the windows open, the ceiling fan at full-speed, and still she was sweating. Bitsy curled against her thighs, relishing this opportunity to be in her rightful place while Scott was away. Hoopi lay on his bed on the floor, sending reproachful looks up at Bitsy for breaking the rules.
Molly had put in a few hours of work after the girls went to bed—editing a video about the farmer’s market, capturing the small-town summer aesthetic, adding the perfect music, artfully cropping the images so Ella’s face was never fully shown. She didn’t include any video of Liv, but it had been wonderful to have her there. Both the girls got along with her, but especially Ella—probably because they had similar personalities, quiet and self-contained. Molly had felt a few small twinges of jealousy, watching how easily Ella warmed to Liv, but mostly she’d been happy to have another adult around to talk to. They’d chatted about Liv’s work as a physical therapist, their shared love of Taylor Swift, and made plans to get together again.
But now that the video was edited and her computer set aside, Molly couldn’t relax. Her heart beat too quickly for sleep, her limbs itchy with restlessness. She’d felt that way all day, this gnawing unease.
She didn’t want to doubt her husband. Even after her Twitter question-and-answer session about birth certificates and adoption, she might have believed his story. Except the birth certificate was now gone. If he had nothing to hide, why would he have taken it out of the safe?
With a huff, she sat up in bed again. Hoopi raised his massive black-and-tan head, ears pricked upward, eyes focused on her. Bitsy rolled on her side and went back to sleep. Molly pulled her laptop from her nightstand and onto her lap.
How to verify a birth certificate.