“Oh, wow. You know, that Kiera girl has been really nice about all the things I don’t know.”

“What are old friends for?” She leans back and sips from her drink. Somehow, she’s already on the last sip. “That Kiera girl. It’s funny to hear you act like you don’t know her. You two hang out all the time.”

“You’re friends with her too, right? She seems to know you. I’ve seen pictures of the three of us.”

“Of course, yeah, I mean everyone knows each other here. We’re friends. It’s more like you and Kiera are friends and therefore, she’s my friend too. It’s not like we spend time separately from you besides running into each other or at a party or something. Been a while since I’ve hung out with either of you, but that’s been the dynamic. It was.”

I shake my head. “So we really aren’t close anymore here? Because I can’t imagine any world in which we aren’t.”

Unless, of course, death is in the way.

“We drifted apart.”

“Bullshit,” I say. “That’s literally impossible in a town this small. If we’re not friends, it has to be on purpose.”

Her cheerful energy fades a little. She looks at her phone screen and says, “Shoot, listen, I have to go. We can talk more, but the kids will be out of their playgroup soon and I still have to get groceries.”

I almost want to ask her if I can come, but then the idea of trying to continue this conversation while winding around the islands of the produce section stops me. Also, if she wanted me to come, she would invite me.

But I have a trillion more questions. How did Theo end up here? How old are her kids? What is life like here for us? What is she lying about?

How did she end up here? I need the confirmation.

That one I ask anyway.

“Before you go … how did you end up in Avalon?”

She lifts her shoulders to her ears and then lets them fall. “I got taken off the wait-list.”

Aimee gives me a weak smile, and I give her one back.

“Okay.” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “Now that I’m way overcaffeinated, it’s time to go pick up my hyper children so we can bounce off the walls together.”

“Do they have little accents?” I ask, silently agreeing to lighten the subject.

A real smile stretches across her face. “They do. It’s so fucking adorable.”

“Wow,” I say, with a breath of disbelief.

“No kids in my other life, huh?” she asks.

“No,” I answer truthfully.

She nods, and then says, “Well. Glad I’m in this one then. They’re really cute.”

With that, she raises a hand in goodbye, hoists her mom-purse higher on her shoulder, and turns to go.