The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh

Forty-Two

Celeste

Someone is pounding on my door rather than knocking and when I peek outside and see Frankie, my heart leaps. She’s alone, which means this isn’t a social call for the girls and for a terrifying moment I wonder if she’s discovered my secret. But Andre isn’t with her and he would be if she had.

I break into a sweat and try to get a read on her expression but can’t. Dragging in a few deep breaths to calm my racing pulse, I subdue my panic and open the door.

“Hi, Frankie, what can I do for you?”

My voice is a tad high and she casts me an odd look before saying, “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

After she steps inside I close the door and gesture to the sparsely furnished living room, a far cry from her luxurious haven.

“Where’s Violette?” she asks, looking around, and I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s acting perfectly normal, which she wouldn’t be if she’d come here to confront me about what I’m hiding.

“She’s on her tablet upstairs.” I roll my eyes. “It’s an educational game at least. I hate screens as much as the next parent but for a single mom, they’re a godsend.”

“For those who aren’t single too.”

We share a moment and thankfully her anger drains away, replaced by weariness. She looks awful, with dark smudges under her eyes and the faintest red capillaries bracketing her nose. That’s when I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her without make-up.

“I’d planned on barging in here and telling you off for encouraging Luna to keep a secret from us, but I think I should be thanking you for comforting her instead.”

I’m floored. My shock must show because her smile is bashful as she sinks onto the sofa and I sit next to her.

“Have I been that much of a bitch since you’ve arrived?” She mimics my astounded expression. “Because going by how stunned you look, I think you expected me to slug you.”

“You were looking angsty when I answered the door. As for being bitchy…”

I can give her a trite answer she probably wants or take a risk and tell her the truth. I settle for the latter. “Honestly? You seem kind of tense all the time. I thought we became friends at the gender reveal party but since then you’ve been odd around me.” I briefly touch her arm. “I’m worried about you. Because I think you’re a good mom and the way you were arguing with Andre last night at Saylor’s, you looked like you were on the edge.”

“I don’t usually drink,” she says, as if that explains it, but I know there’s more going on. I’ve seen that weary look before. On me.

In those early heady days with Roland, I’d been the model girlfriend. Doing whatever he wanted. Trying to make him like me. I hadn’t had a boyfriend before and he’d been my first love, my only love. When we’d broken up, I’d never lost faith we’d reunite. Couples destined to be together do it all the time. So when he’d come back to me I’d made sure he’d never leave me again. I got pregnant.

If he suspected I’d done it to trap him, he didn’t say. He’d been there for me, through the birth and beyond. Until he emotionally checked out and I knew we were done. I tried to hold onto him. I tried everything. Turns out, I wasn’t enough and after our last nasty confrontation I know why.

“You’re exhausted,” I say, settling into the cushions. “And I think it’s got nothing to do with a hangover.”

Her eyes widen in surprise but she still regards me with reserve. “Do I look that bad?”

“I’ve seen the look before.” I pat my chest. “In the mirror. A few years ago, I hit breaking point with Roland until I realized I was overdoing it, trying to do too much, be everything for everybody, and it was slowly killing me.”

She stared at me for an eternity before finally nodding. “That’s how I feel.” Her sigh is heavy. “I’m so tired of being perfect…”

Tears start trickling down her cheeks but she’s silent, swallowing her sobs, striving for perfection even when crying.

I usually only hug Vi, who loves cuddles. But last night Luna had needed comforting and now Frankie needs a hug too, so I scoot closer and envelop her in my arms. She’s resistant, being her usual stoic self, and I wait until she relaxes into me. That’s when the sobs start, like a dam has been breached, and she’s shaking and heaving to the point I’m seriously worried.

I murmur platitudes like “It’ll be okay” and “You’ll be fine” but I’m not so sure. If this woman who’s been reticent with me at times since we met is comfortable enough to break down like this, she’s in a bad way.

When she quietens I release her and she shuffles back on the cushion, putting some distance between us. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose is like a red swollen blob and her cheeks are blotchy, but there’s a calmness in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“I’m beyond embarrassed to blubber all over you like that, but I think I needed it.”

“You did,” I say. “Want something to drink?”

“Water will be fine.”

I head to the kitchen and fill two glasses, wondering if this is the breakthrough in our friendship I’ve been hoping for. Either she’ll retreat after this, mortified, or she’ll realize I can be an ally if she gives me a chance.

I hand her the glass of water and she gulps it down.

“Dehydrated, huh?”

Sheepish, she nods. “I’ve never drunk four glasses of wine in my life. And considering how I feel today, and the fool I made of myself last night, I never will again.”

“Want another water?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” She hesitates, as if unsure how to phrase what comes next and I wait, curious. “And thanks for more than the water. You comforted Luna last night when she needed it most and I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. They’re so precious at that age. Precocious one minute, clingy the next.”

I see a shift in her eyes so I preempt her dressing-down. “And I apologize for telling her to keep a secret. I was trying to distract her because she was upset and thought I’d improvise by making eating the strawberries fun, but I’d never encourage her to keep secrets from you usually.”

“Thanks, Celeste, I appreciate you saying that.”

We lapse into silence and for the first time since we met it’s comfortable.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods. “Sure.”

“Was Andre upset about you chatting to Ruston?”

“No, I was just being an idiot.” She rolls her eyes. “But even if he was, he has no right. Like he’s some kind of saint.”

She eyeballs me and I get what she’s implying.

“Hey, we were just talking. I would never flirt with your husband—”

“It’s not you,” she says, then looks away as if she’s said too much. “We all have pasts, right?”

“Absolutely.”

If she knew mine, she’d run a million miles in the opposite direction.

“Anyway, if you ever need to sort things out or talk with him or whatever, I’m happy to mind Luna.”

“I might take you up on that,” she says as she stands and taps her watch. “I better get back. I’ve got some planning to do.”

“You’re filming today?”

She grimaces. “Do I look that bad?”

“Well…”

We laugh together and it’s nice. I like being friends with my neighbor. It’s good that she trusts me.

I hope it stays that way.