“I’m so sorry. I’m looking for Beth Harrison’s house?”

“Just one more over.”

I motion to my left. “That way?”

“Are you blind, dear?”

I nod.

“May God bless you.” Her screen door bangs shut. I don’t know how to tell her that sometimes I think God forgot to check my limit on what one can endure.

“Is Jake’s car here?” I ask Crystal.

“Unless he drives a Mercedes, then no.”

“At least she’s here.” I know from our conversations that Beth’s car is candy-apple red, obsessively waxed, and she bought it in cash after working for Rodan + Fields. Aside from Trevor, that car is her pride and joy.

Crystal guides me toward the front door. “What if Jackson really is here? What do I do?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Her voice cracks with tension. She slips her free hand through mine and squeezes.

I stab the doorbell and wait.

38

BEC

Beth opens it almost immediately. “Rebecca, my God. Are you okay?” She pulls me into a hug. Her fingers press against my bruised spine, and I wriggle out of her touch. “Your friend was just here. I can’t believe you think…”

I don’t even ask to come inside or explain why Crystal is with me. I ask her the single question I need the answer to: “Do you have Jackson?”

She sighs and opens the door wider. “No, I don’t.” Her cold fingers clamp around my wrist. She walks me to her sitting room that smells like freshly cut flowers.

“Then where’s Trevor? He wasn’t with you at the parade.”

“I know. He wasn’t.” She sits beside me, and I twist my body to face her. I’m not sure where Crystal is in the room, but she’s silent. “I felt guilty.”

“Guilty about what?” I ask.

“Guilty that I couldn’t handle the whole attachment parenting thing. I needed a break.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I hired a babysitter and went out and enjoyed myself.” Her voice cracks, and I marvel over people’s thresholds—what will break some people and not others. “I know that’s terrible, but it’s what I needed.”

“Where’s Trevor now?” I ask.

“Upstairs. Finally asleep, thank God.”

“Did Jake confirm that?”

“He did, Bec.” Her fingers find my knee. “I’m so sorry. I would never do anything like that to you. You have to know that.”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” Hysteria creeps into my voice, but I steel myself. “Do you mind if I go up?”

“I’ll go with her,” Crystal says.

“How about we all ago?” Beth slaps her thighs and follows us upstairs. The wood doesn’t groan under my feet as it does in my own house. Instead, a plush runner silences all of our footsteps as we reach the landing.

“Which way?”

“Left. First door to your right.”