Never Lie (22)

He still doesn’t seem perturbed. “So it was some snow sliding off the roof. I mean, I can think of a million things that could make a noise like that.” He inhales sharply at the sight of the scissors in my hand. “What the hell are you doing with those?”

“There’s an intruder in the house!”

“Yeah, but…” He rubs his eyes again. “What do you think? That somebody is burglarizing us during a blizzard in the middle of nowhere?”

“Maybe somebody was squatting here. And they’re still here in the house somewhere.”

“Maybe…”

Of course, that doesn’t explain what I saw downstairs. The painting was moved. Why would a squatter do that?

“The painting was moved,” I finally say. “That’s how I know somebody was down there.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” A crease forms between Ethan’s eyebrows. “I moved the painting.”

“You did?” It didn’t even occur to me that he would have put the painting back. I guess we agreed that we would fix anything we moved before we left the house. I suppose he must’ve done it when he went down to get me water.

“Tricia, you’re freaking me out.” He reaches for me, his hand landing on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it’s the pregnancy making me paranoid. But I can’t tell him that. “I’m fine. I just… I got scared for a minute.”

“Can you please put down the scissors?”

Obligingly, I allow Ethan to pry the scissors out of my hand and put them on the dresser. When the scissors are safely out of the way, he wraps his arms around me. I rest my head on his right shoulder and feel instantly better. I’m lucky that he’s so level-headed. I tend to get worked up easily over things, so he’s a good balance for me. I’m really lucky to have him.

“Nobody else is in this house but us.” He laces one of his hands into mine. “And even if there were, I would protect you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He squeezes my body close to his. “We’re a team now, you and me. We are always there for each other, no matter what. I’m here for you, Tricia, for the rest of our lives. I promise you that. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

My heart rate gradually slows. He’s probably right about the crash. There are plenty of things that could’ve made a loud noise. Hell, it could have been the dishes we precariously stacked in the kitchen. Anything could have done it. We looked everywhere and didn’t see another soul in this house.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

We lie back down together in the bed, his arms still wrapped around me. It occurs to me that right now is the perfect time to tell him about the baby. It’s such a wonderful moment between the two of us. But as I sink deeper into his arms, I feel suddenly exhausted. I don’t have the energy to have that conversation with him right now. All I want is to go to sleep.

And the next thing I know, I’m drifting off.





Chapter 16


ADRIENNE



Before




I’m running late.

I tap my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. This is not like me. I pride myself on always being prompt. But I was finishing up the last chapter of my proof copy of The Anatomy of Fear, and I just couldn’t stop reading. I’m so incredibly proud of that book. It’s a conglomeration of the personal accounts of several patients who have survived intense fear-inducing incidents and my expert analysis, as well as advice to readers who may have experienced something similar.

This book will really help people. It's my crowning achievement.

The light in front of me turns from yellow to red—good God, it will take an eternity to wait for another green light at this intersection. Without thinking about it, I shove my foot onto the gas pedal to breeze through seconds after the light has turned. I hold my breath for a second, bracing myself for the sound of police sirens.

But they don’t come.

Technically, I went through a red light. While I don’t endorse breaking the law, there are mental health benefits to doing so. A psychological study demonstrated that cheating or breaking rules resulted in an unexpectedly good mood afterward. As well as a brief sense of freedom from all rules. So perhaps we should all bend the rules sometimes.

I reach the mall parking lot with one minute to spare until my clinic begins. I don’t advertise this fact, but once a week, I volunteer my time at a low-income clinic in the Bronx. I handle medication management for patients with serious psychiatric issues. I’m the only psychiatrist they have at the clinic, and these patients are desperate for my help. Many have been waiting years to see a trained psychiatrist.

The sessions I have at my house are the ones that pay the bills. And while I do have some challenging patients who have been through real trauma like some of the people in my latest book, the majority of my roster is composed of unfulfilled housewives of rich bankers or lawyers, or else their adult children like EJ, who are going to my sessions on their parents’ dime—a desperate attempt to push them out of the nest.

The patients at the free clinic need me. I make a real difference here. I even donated a sizable chunk of my book earnings to the clinic, when I found out that they were in financial trouble and might shut down.