Sophie sighs. “Listen, Tess,” she says in a lower voice. “Okay, that’s fine. The course sounds great—perfect for you. I’ll support you all the way. But start it in September and come back home now. I’m worried about you. What the hell is going on, Tess? Are you in trouble?”

My door opens and I jump, dropping the phone, scrabbling to hide the photos. “Is everything okay?” It’s Max’s voice, Max’s hand on my shoulder. Fake Max, a stranger. I pick up my phone and there’s Sophie, my best friend, who only knows the lie of me, the fake Tess I’ve been since I started teaching.

I have to stay. I have to know what happened to Greg, what happened to Bella. I have to see this through.

I force a smile at her. “I’m fine, Sophie. Seriously—I’m fine. There’s stuff going on but I have to be here—for Julia, for Dad. You understand that, don’t you?”

She’s still frowning. “No, not really.”

I don’t want her to say anything else, not with Max in the room. Can she see him, hovering at the edge of the screen, his hand still there on my shoulder? “I have to go. I’ll call you, okay?”

I look up at Max after ending the call, force a smile.

“Are you okay? That conversation sounded intense.”

“She’s worried about me.”

“Well, she doesn’t need to be. I’m here.” He looks down at the photo still scrunched in my hand, the others only half-covered by the quilt. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” I say, stuffing the photos in my pocket. “I’m going back downstairs.”

Sean is in the kitchen making toast. “Want some?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I thought you were sitting with Julia?”

He nods and cuts his toast in half. “I was. But your dad’s up there now, so I left them to it.”

I drop the photo of him and Bella in front of him. “Lena gave me this.”

He looks at it and puts his toast down. “So?”

“It looks…”

“It looks what?”

“It looks like you’re together.” Even as I say it, I feel stupid. Sophie was right—so what if they were together?

He laughs. “Seriously? Me and Bella? You couldn’t be more wrong.”

He likes you, Bella whispers, and I shake my head.

“Forget it,” I say, shoulders stiffening. He sighs and turns away and the tilt of his chin elicits a whisper of memory—his chin brushing against my cheek as he whispered something in my ear, my face turning toward his…He’s almost at the door when I call him back.

“Sean? Did I…did I kiss you once?”

He looks back at me and smiles. “I wasn’t sure if you’d forgotten or if you were deliberately not mentioning it.”

“It was at the wedding, wasn’t it?”