As Robin jumped up in a fluster, I grabbed a napkin and tossed it on the rosy puddle. “No big deal, Robin. It’s cleaned up. Sit down and relax.”

But Robin could never relax. I understood, always living on the edge with Owen. As Robin rushed to the bathroom, I sensed something darker going on beyond her usual worry. She was hiding something behind this dinner theater that she was an actress in. Everything felt fake tonight. I knew this because I was faking too, playing my role in the happy family performance. When Robin returned with her lips stuck in a grim line, Collette was already done with me, reaching for her mamma.

“So did you hear about that college coach who was caught diddlin’ his cheerleaders?” As an unapologetic devotee of supermarket tabloids, I sought to distract my best friend the only way I knew how.

“Can we not talk about perverts and cheaters?” Robin cast a glare at the kitchen toward Grant’s wake. “Men are selfish pigs. What else is there to say? They take what they want, no matter who they hurt.”

Apparently Robin had a lot to say, but I knew this wasn’t about a national scandal. A bigger question nagged me: was a scandal happening right in Robin’s own home?

Chapter 7

Lily

SUNDAY EVENING

Today was the day my life began and Robin’s ended.

Grant stood on one side of the kitchen island while I lingered on the other, reaching for the wine bottle.

“Santoro, you’re such a lush.” Grant wagged his finger at me as I topped off my third glass of wine for the evening. I’d always liked how he referred to me by my last name. It felt so empowering, somehow. Like I was one of the guys.

That was my first mistake, believing I was innocent. Because women held the power too. I just hadn’t harnessed it yet.

“I think you like me a little tipsy.”

“Why do you think that?” His hazel eyes bore into me, singeing me with their intensity as he crept along the counter toward me. Even separated by space and granite, I felt his heat.

“Because I know what you want, and you can’t have it. You’re thinking maybe if I’m drunk I’ll lose my head. Do something foolish. Typical guy.” I cocked my head, daring him to prove me wrong.

“Typical guy, huh? What exactly is it that you think I want?”

“To get in my pants,” I said as I headed into the walk-in pantry where food items were lined in neat rows—snacks, canned goods, various pastas, spices. Robin’s obsessiveness knew no bounds. Grant followed behind me, pausing in front of the canned soup section.

“That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”

“So you don’t find me attractive?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And you don’t want me?”

“I didn’t say that either.”