Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

I had hoped to avoid telling him, but I saw no out. “Her boss was sexually harassing her.”

He started laughing. “Is he blind?”

“Jackson! That’s cruel.”

“Seriously, that dirty-dishwater hair, the ugly glasses, and don’t get me started on her lack of fashion sense,” he said, shaking his head.

I was glad that he didn’t find her attractive. Not because I cared if he strayed, but because I didn’t want anything to cause me to lose her as a friend. And working for Hilda Battley, she’d be cocooned from any funny business from the men there. I felt good about helping her and knowing that no one would traumatize her again.

“Please, Jackson. It would make me very happy, and you’d be doing a good thing.”

“I’ll arrange it. She can start Monday. But you have to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Cancel your mother’s visit for next month.”

My heart sank. “She’s been looking forward to it. I’ve already bought tickets to The Lion King . The girls are really excited.”

“It’s up to you. If you want me to hire your friend, then I’ll need some peace and quiet. When your mother’s here, I can’t relax. Besides, she was just here for Tallulah’s birthday.”

“All right. I’ll call her.”

He gave me a cold smile. “Oh, and tell her that you’re canceling because the girls want to take Sabine instead of her to the show.”

“There’s no need to be cruel.”

“Okay. No job.”

I picked up the phone and dialed. When I hung up, heartsick at the hurt in my mother’s voice, he gave me an approving nod.

“Well done. See? You don’t need anyone but me, anyhow. I’m your family.”

I loved having a best friend again. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was until Amber came along. Her manipulation was so subtle and gradual that I never had a twinge of suspicion.

It wasn’t long until we were always in touch with each other: texting when something funny happened, phone calls, lunches. I wanted her at the house all the time. I was ready to leave to meet her when I heard his car in the driveway. Stomach lurching, I contemplated sneaking out the back, but when I looked out the window, he was out of the car and talking to Tommy, our driver. Shit.

He slammed the front door and stalked over to me. “Why do you need Tommy tonight? He said he’s picking up Amber too. Are you planning on drinking yourselves into oblivion like some sluts?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. Just a glass or two, but I don’t want to drive. She’s been so busy with work, we wanted an evening to catch up. I thought you were taking clients out tonight—”

“The dinner was canceled.” He studied me for a long moment. “You know, she’s the help now. It’s actually rather unseemly for you to be friends with her. What if someone sees you together?”

The heat spread from my neck to my face. “She’s become like a sister to me. Please don’t ask me to stop being friends with her.”

“Upstairs,” he commanded.

The girls were getting their baths; I had already said my good nights. “I don’t want the girls to hear me. I’ll have to go through the routine all over again.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his office, slammed me against the wall, and locked the door. He unzipped his pants and pushed me down to my knees.

“The quicker you get to it, the faster you can leave.”

Hot tears of humiliation ran down my face, ruining my makeup. I wanted to refuse him, to tell him how much he repulsed me, but I was terrified. The slightest resistance to anything he wanted could result in the gun coming out again.

“Stop crying! You make me sick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up and get to it.”

After I finished, he tucked his shirt back in and zipped up his pants.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” He laughed. “By the way, you look like shit. Your makeup’s all smeared.”

He unlocked the door and left without another word.

I stumbled to the bathroom and ran some water under my eyes. I texted Tommy and told him to get Amber and come back for me. I couldn’t let anyone see me this way.

When I finally got to the bar and saw Amber waiting, I wanted nothing more than to pour out my heart, tell her what he was really like. Her friendship had lulled me into such a strong sense of security that I almost told her the truth about why I was late. But the words wouldn’t come. And what could she do anyway?

As she looked at me with stars in her eyes, asking about my perfect marriage, I wanted to lay it all bare. But she couldn’t help me, and there was nothing to be gained by being truthful. So I did what I had learned to do best: I pushed the reality to the back of my mind and pretended that my charmed life was all that it seemed.

The night that Meredith came to tell me that she’d discovered that Amber wasn’t her real name, at first I believed Amber’s explanation, that she’d been abused and had to run from her crazy father. After all, I understood what it was like to be a captive. If I thought I could survive and Jackson wouldn’t find us, I’d have gladly assumed a false identity. But something in her story was familiar. Then it hit me: she’d used the same phrase— I’m so ashamed to tell you this —when she told me about her boss making a pass at her. The more I thought about it, the more her story sounded suspicious. I decided to listen to my gut and investigate, but I pretended to believe her. I had my own reasons, but Meredith thought I was crazy. She’d come over the day after the confrontation.

“I don’t care what she says, Daphne. You can’t trust her. She’s an impostor. I wonder if she even has a sister.”

That was impossible, though. Even if she’d lied about everything else, she had to have a sister. I couldn’t bear to believe that someone could be so cruel as to pretend she had suffered as I had, to make up stories about a sister struggling with this dreadful disease. That would make her a monster. And my best friend couldn’t be a monster.

“I believe her. Not everyone has the resources that we do. Sometimes lying is the only option.”

She shook her head. “There’s something very off with her.”

“Look, Mer. I know you’re only trying to protect me. But I know Amber. Her grief over her sister is genuine. She’s had a rough life, and I understand that. Please, have a little faith in my judgment.”

“I think you’re making a mistake, but it’s your call. For your sake, I hope she’s telling the truth.”

After she’d gone, I ran up to my bedroom, opened my nightstand drawer, and pulled out the glass turtle Amber had given me. Holding it by the edges, I placed it in a plastic bag. I threw my hair into a ponytail, pulled a baseball cap low on my face, and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I left the house with only my wallet and the burner phone I’d bought a few months earlier and walked the two miles into town. The cab I’d called was waiting in front of the bank on Main Street, and I jumped in the back.

“I need to go to Oxford. This address please.”

I handed him the slip of paper and slid back in the seat, looking around to make sure no one I knew had seen me. My thoughts were racing as I considered the implications of Meredith’s findings, and I felt sick. Was it possible that our entire relationship was built on pretense? Was she using me for my money, or was she after my husband? Slow down, I thought. Wait and see.

Forty minutes later, the cab came to a stop in front of the brick building.

“Can you wait for me?” I gave him a hundred-dollar bill. “I won’t be long.”