She stares down at the splash of water created by the mop. If I’m not mistaken, she doesn’t seem like she likes Lucy much. I don’t know why I care though. I’ve known Lucy since college whereas I met Camila this morning. It’s not much of a contest who I trust more.
Yet there’s something about Camila that I like.Something about her throaty laugh. She seems like an honest person. Someone I could imagine being friends with in another life. But there’s no way she’s going to tell me the truth about Lucy or Harry or Graham or any of that. She is our employee, after all. Not my friend.
“Are you married?” I blurt out.
Camila looks up at me in surprise, as if she was expecting another question, but then her lips twist into a grin. “Getting a little personal, aren’t we?”
“If it would help, you can ask me if I’m married.”
She lifts the mop off the floor. “No. I’m not married.”
“Children?”
“No. No brothers or sisters. My parents are gone. I have nobody.”
“Oh.” I shift on the sofa. “I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. In some ways, it’s easier not to have anybody. I have less to lose.”
I grope for my phone, now nestled in my pocket. Talking to Lucy just now didn’t help at all with all my questions. It’s just created new questions. As soon as Camila goes upstairs to clean, I’m going to call that number. I can’t do it in front of her. Maybe she looks like an honest person, but looks are deceiving. I don’t know what she’s going to report back to my supposed husband.
“Have you ever been in love?” I ask her.
“In love?” She crinkles her nose. “No. Definitely not.”
“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing.”
“I wouldn’t know either way.”
“I was in love once.” My voice cracks on the words. I don’t want her to know who I’m talking about, but I can’thelp myself. It’s all I can think about. “I recommend it.”
“Mmm. Do you?”
“Yes. It was… nice. But I know what you mean about having something to lose.” I swipe at my right eye to prevent tears from falling. “Because once it’s gone, it’s all you can think about. It’s hard to be happy after that.”
Camila shoves the mop into a bucket in the corner of the room. She looks at me, her brow crinkling. “I’m done down here. I’m going to clean upstairs.”
Our eyes meet, and my hands break out in a sweat. Does she know what I’m planning to do? Somehow, I feel like she might know. Something about the way she’s looking at me. And if that’s the case, will she tell Graham? Maybe the second she gets upstairs, she’ll go right to him and tell him what she suspects.
I hope she doesn’t. But I have to take the chance.
Once she’s gone upstairs, I take out the little piece of paper where I transcribed the number written on my leg. I’m not sure what to expect. The letter I wrote to myself said Harry is in jail. What if I can’t reach him?
But I know the answer. If I don’t reach him today, I’ll leave another note for myself. I’ll keep trying until I find him.
My hands are shaking as I type the number into my phone. I hold it to my ear, looking up the stairwell to make sure nobody is within earshot. The phone rings and rings.
And rings.
Damn it.
He’s not going to pick up. I should have known. Who knows if that note I wrote to myself was even real. Maybe Iwas just delusional. The ten digits are probably just made-up numbers.
I was kidding myself to think I was ever going to see Harry again.
“Tess? Is that you?”
“Harry!” I grip the phone with both hands, immediately regretting the volume of my voice. I clear my throat and lower it several notches. “It’s you…”
