“To be clear,” Kiera goes on, “what I believe is that you believe it. And if this is something you need to work through, I’ll help you. But if it goes on too long, I’m going to have you admitted somewhere, all right? Put in a padded room or something. I don’t really know how any of that works. But. I’m going to figure it out if I have to.”

I think of Aimee again and realize that I’m now actually putting off the attempt to see her. As long as I don’t try, I can believe she’s alive.

Man. My denial skills are kinda stunning.

But if she is alive, I have to know for sure. Of course I have to know.

I stop and pull out my phone.

I swipe through. There she is. There’s her number.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

“Meg?” prompts Kiera, seeing the contact pulled up.

“I’m going to call Aimee.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Are you sure you want to do that?” asks Kiera, cringing. She’s stopped walking on the path. A breeze runs between us, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle from somewhere.

I stop too, the phone and Aimee’s contact information waiting there.

“You said we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know all the details. I think it was sort of a slow falling-out. After the wedding—”

“Wedding? Whose wedding? Is she married?”

Kiera nods.

Aimee was nineteen the last time I saw her, and we were in no way talking about things like marriage. I know people get married at that age in like, Utah, and wherever the NXIVM sex cult is still secretly operating, but the idea of getting married was so far from our minds when I last saw her.

Well … actually, was it?

Aimee was always so much more traditional than I was. We wanted to come here. We wanted to be actresses, and we used to say we wanted to get famous and go down in history like the Cates/Kates.: Blanchett, Winslet, Hepburn. We wanted to be charming and funny, with a dash of serious acting mixed in.

But I guess I was really the one who talked about it the most. She loved doing plays, but she was usually in the ensemble and happy there. Or doing tech. I, meanwhile, either got lead parts or was furious at myself when I didn’t, overthinking every weak syllable in my audition.

Aimee didn’t crave the limelight like I did. She had talked about her future wedding. She even talked about having kids one day.

I talked about walking down the red carpet, and she talked about walking down the aisle. How had I forgotten that?

“What’s her husband like?”

“You sort of hate him.”