“Remy,” Vera says once I’ve turned the water off. “We need to talk.”

I dry my face, lean on the sink with both hands against the counter.

“You told me you weren’t there.”

At the heart of every good lie is the truth, that’s what Elise told me once. The best lies are at least half-true, she said, but what if she had it wrong? What if it was the other way around? What if it was the truth that required a lie? Not the facts but the truth, and the truth is that it was all a horrible accident.

I collapse to my knees, fingers still gripping the edge of the sink, head heavy.

“Remy!” Vera tries to catch me but she’s too late.

Letting go of the counter, I ball up into myself like I’ve been punched in the gut. It becomes more and more difficult to breathe. I’m gasping for air until I vomit onto the floor, my morning coffee coming up bitter and burning.

“Oh my God,” Vera says, but her voice barely reaches me. She leaves my side to return with fistfuls of paper towels.

Despite the coughing and choking, I feel strangely better. Empty, but lighter, like I have a new sense of clarity. I know what I have to do, how I’ll save us. And for the first time, I have direction.

I wasn’t there but if that’s what I need to say to make sure they know the truth—that Elise would never have killed Jack if she’d known it was him—then I’ll say it. I’ll lie, but only so they’ll know the truth.

I stagger up and hold on to the nearest wall to steady myself. Vera is saying something but it’s hard for me to hear.

Finally, her voice comes into focus. “You said you weren’t there,” she says again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asks, not angry, just perplexed, and I’m relieved. “You know I’m on your side, right?”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, and I am but only for the trouble it’s causing her now, not the lie.

“Were you just scared to tell me?” she asks.

I nod.

“So you were there,” she says. “And you saw all of it.”

Jack’s gone, but Elise is still here.

“Remy?”

I nod again, struggling to find my voice. I’ve already lost him, I don’t want to lose her.

“But everything else is true,” she says, searching my face.

“Yes,” I manage to say. I wash my hands, watch them shake under the water. After I wipe my face, I look at myself once more. There’s no war paint, no mask to hide behind. This is who I am. I know what I have to do.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Vera says. “We can ask to reschedule, come back tomorrow.”

“No. I’m okay,” I tell her, and though I’m not sure either of us believes that, she sees the determination in my eyes and relents, leading me back.