The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Fifteen
Saylor
Lloyd is grocery shopping and I’m sitting by the living room window when I see Celeste and Frankie in the park. Their girls are playing but the women’s postures are off. They’re not facing each other. Instead, they’re sitting side by side and only talking occasionally. It’s weird. If I sat next to someone on a park bench I’d half turn to face them, not look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.
I didn’t sleep well last night and it had nothing to do with the heartburn that’s becoming increasingly persistent. Learning that Ruston lives opposite us has rattled me more than I care to admit. It’s silly, because even if Lloyd learns we used to date, I’ll dismiss it as a past crush, insignificant and irrelevant. But he’ll wonder why I didn’t mention it and I don’t want my husband to start doubting me. It may lead to other questions I have no intention of answering.
As for Ruston being an inconsequential crush from the past, nothing is further from the truth.
Ruston is the love of my life. Was. And I hate that I need to make the clarification from present to past tense in my own head. Marrying Lloyd is the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But deep down, my emotional connection to Ruston simmers, making a mockery of my logical choice of husband.
I’ve been spying this morning in the hope I’ll catch a glimpse of him walking or jogging and I can instigate an “accidental” meeting where I can grill him about how he ended up here and warn him not to say anything about our shared past to Lloyd. But he’s nowhere in sight and the street is quiet.
While Celeste only recently moved in, like me, maybe Frankie has the lowdown on Ruston so I make an impulsive decision to join them.
They look up as I approach. “Hey, girls, mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” Frankie says, almost too eagerly, pointing to the empty bench opposite. “We’re making the most of this sunshine while the girls play.”
“You’ll get to do this soon.” Celeste glances at my small bump. “Another four months and you’ll be indoctrinated into the joys of mothers’ group.”
I pretend to shudder as I sit, when I’m actually looking forward to absorbing the wisdom of fellow moms. “I’ve heard about those. A bunch of new moms comparing their babies’ sleep patterns and feeding habits and who has the biggest bassinet.”
Frankie laughs. “They can be daunting, but it’s good to hang out with women going through the same thing.”
Celeste nods in agreement, but she’s studying me, as if she can’t quite figure me out.
What would these women think if they knew the truth?
They’ll never understand. Nobody will.
Eventually I’ll tell Lloyd. I’ll have to, because he deserves to know the type of woman he married. I know there’s a chance he’ll leave me, but with his immersion in the church and one of his major mantras being forgiveness, I’m hoping he won’t; that he’ll be so smitten by our baby boy by then he could never leave us.
“So what’s it like, Frankie, having two new neighbors?”
I watch for her reaction carefully because I get the feeling there’s already tension between her and Celeste. When I walked up a few minutes ago they both wore harried expressions that had nothing to do with their kids, as the girls are happily engaged in role-playing with their dolls.
“Great, actually, considering both houses have been empty for a while.” She flashes me a genuine smile. “It’s a fantastic neighborhood. Everyone’s friendly, no late night loud music to contend with, no barking dogs, and a general lack of any scandal.”
I laugh, intending to keep it that way despite Ruston re-entering my life when I least expect it.
“We love it so far,” I say, my gaze automatically drifting to the house opposite where he lives. “The way everyone came to the gender reveal party yesterday blew me away. I felt so welcomed.”
“We’re a friendly bunch,” Frankie says, and Celeste’s eyebrows raise a fraction, making me wonder if she feels the same about her own welcome. I know she only moved in two nights ago and from what I saw at the party, the street is full of happy families and couples planning the next stage of their lives. Does she feel out of place as a single mom?
I’d seen her SUV pull up and watched her unload her stuff. Not much for a woman and child—two suitcases, a duffel and a backpack—so she probably took the place fully furnished like we did. Cheaper that way and makes for an easier get-away. I understand, as depending how my plan plays out, I may need to leave quickly too.
I’m not sure what to make of Celeste. We didn’t interact much yesterday. She kept to herself. She seems reserved, wary almost, like she’s afraid of something.
I know the feeling.
“If you need anything in particular for the baby, let me know,” Frankie says. “I get sent free stuff all the time, even though Luna is five now.”
“That must be so cool. I love your vlog.”
The realtor had mentioned our house being next door to Frankie Forbes and I hadn’t known who that was until I looked her up. I’m beyond impressed with her massive following and she appears like a natural in front of the camera, at odds with the woman in front of me, who seems more introverted.
“Thanks. It’s a fun job,” Frankie says, but her brow furrows slightly. “But our house is stuffed to overflowing so I donate a lot to charity and give away the rest once I’ve promoted online, as more keeps coming.”
“I’m happy to take stuff off your hands,” Celeste says, waving. “Any time.”
We laugh and I’m glad I ventured out to join them. However, I had a reason for approaching them and I need to discover more about Ruston.
“Everyone was so lovely at the party yesterday, but are you close with any of the neighbors in particular?” I ask Frankie.
Frankie holds up her hand and wavers it. “Yes and no. I mean, we’re all friendly, and we do gatherings in the park for some of the big holidays like Fourth of July, but I’m pretty busy most of the time so I don’t catch up regularly with anyone.”
I snap my fingers. “Damn, so you don’t know the hot guy who lives across the park?”
I’m fishing for information, to see how much Frankie knows.
She screws up her nose like she’s thinking and I laugh. “If you have to think that long, you don’t know him.”
“There’s a hot guy?” Celeste rubs her hands together and we laugh in unison again.
“Yeah, and he lives alone.”
Celeste sends a pointed glance at my belly. “And you’re asking because?”
“No harm in looking.” I hold up my hands in surrender and Celeste smiles, but she’s eyeing me again, like I’m a puzzle to solve.
“Oh, you mean Ruston,” Frankie says, and I stiffen, wondering what she’ll say next.
But before Frankie can elaborate, the girls abandon their play and run up to us. The cute blonde tugs at Frankie’s hand. “Mom, did you bring snacks?”
“Yeah, beetroot juice and spinach cupcakes,” Frankie deadpans, winking at Celeste, whose daughter has paled at the mention of the food.
“Mom!” Luna hops from foot to foot, obviously used to her mother’s sense of humor. “What did you really bring?”
“Apple juice and oatmeal cookies.” Frankie looks at Celeste. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if Violette has any food allergies.”
“She doesn’t,” Celeste says. “All good.”
“Great.”
As Frankie unzips a cooler bag and sets out snacks for the girls, offering us cookies too, I experience a pang of regret. Hambridge Heights is a good neighborhood and Frankie would make a great neighbor.
I hope I can stay when the truth comes out.