One By One by Freida McFadden(11)

“A Boy Scout,” Noah finishes. “Right. I remember.”

Warner’s prediction about losing our Internet signal makes me anxious though. I don’t want to lose access to my phone. What if Penny calls about the kids? Emma is already not coping well, and I hate the idea of her not being able to reach us. I quickly shoot off a text to Penny:

Just a heads up we may lose phone access when we get close to the hotel. Will call you tonight.

I take a deep breath and try to relax. There’s nothing we can do. It won’t be long before we’re at the inn. I just have to hang in there.





Chapter 8


CLAIRE



At around the two-hour mark, we see a sign for a rest stop that contains a McDonald’s and a small diner. I’m in the mood for some greasy French fries, but I get overruled and we end up at the diner. I’m still going to get some greasy fries. It’s the only way I can make it through the rest of this drive.

The diner is surprisingly busy for a rest stop location. The walls are lined with booths, with the larger tables in the middle, and ironic street signs litter the walls. The entire place smells like grease and burgers. I inhale deeply, already decided I’m going to get a big juicy burger.

While the others are being led to a table, Lindsay and I go to the bathroom together to wash our hands. That’s what we say, anyway, and I actually do wash my hands since the last thing I touched was that Porta-John. But Lindsay seems to be more interested in fixing her makeup. She stares into the bathroom mirror critically at her face, which is at least twice as pretty as mine—much more if you take into account the circles under my eyes from Emma tossing and turning in our bed all week. I can’t imagine what Lindsay is seeing in the mirror that she doesn’t like.

She pulls out a tube of pink lipstick and applies a fresh layer to her lips. She smiles at me in the mirror. “So what do you think of Warner?”

“I’ve only known him for a couple of hours,” I point out. We’ve barely exchanged any words—it’s far too soon to form an opinion. “But he seems… nice.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she says.

“Definitely.” Warner is far more than “cute.” Noah is cute. Warner is drop-dead gorgeous. Even if I were single, I could never get a guy who looked like him. I wouldn’t even want to. Everybody would just look at the two of us and wonder what the hell he was doing with me.

“Listen…” Lindsay places the cap back on her lipstick and turns to me. She lowers her voice a notch. “There’s something I should tell you…”

I raise my eyebrows. “Yes?”

Lindsay opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the door to the ladies room swings open. It’s Michelle.

Michelle takes a step back, her fingers lingering on the door, as if she’s not sure if she should turn around and leave. I sort of wish she would, because I’m dying to know what Lindsay has to tell me. But we can’t talk in front of Michelle.

When Jack and Michelle were first dating, Lindsay and I made an effort to be friendly with her. The three of us went out to dinner a couple of times, but it was obvious we just didn’t click. I also didn’t like how Michelle always found fault in her meal and sent it back. Doesn’t she know people spit in your food if you do that?

Still, because Jack and Noah were such good friends, I kept trying to make an effort to invite her out. I figured if we spent enough time together, we would get to be friends. Jack liked her, after all. But after we went out twice, she always seems to have an excuse for why she couldn’t go. When I gently asked Jack about it once, he mumbled something about how she was busy with work. I got the hint.

And of course, now that I’m sleeping with her husband, it’s hardly the time for us to start bonding.

Michelle’s sharp eyes dart between the two of us. Even in her blue jeans and fitted white T-shirt, she looks like she could be on her way to the office. I don’t know how she manages to always look so put together. She’s about five years older than us—she had already finished law school and was practicing when she and Jack started dating—but she has the kind of classic looks where you can’t tell her age. She’ll be as attractive at fifty as she was at twenty-five.

“Excuse me,” she says to us as she moves toward the empty sink.

The three of us stand in awkward silence while Michelle lathers up her hands then rinses them off. She’s doing quite a thorough job cleaning them. I wonder if she sings the happy birthday song in her head while she does it, like we teach the kids in school. Probably not.

“It’s good to be out of the car, isn’t it?” I say, just to break the silence.

Michelle lifts her eyes to look at me, but she doesn’t say anything. For a split second, I wonder if she might know the truth.

But no. She doesn’t know. Jack and I were careful.

“I love your earrings,” Lindsay says.

Michelle’s fingers fly to her right ear. Her cheeks pink with pride—Lindsay is amazing at knowing exactly what to compliment someone on. “Thank you. They were my mother’s.”

We wait for a beat, to see if Michelle will offer a compliment to either of us. She doesn’t. Just as well, because it wouldn’t be sincere.

When we get back out to the restaurant, the boys are seated at a six-person rectangular table. Noah and Warner are on one side, with an empty seat between them, which Lindsay quickly grabs. Jack is on the other side, in the center. Michelle sits on one side of him, and I sit on the other. Of the three couples, Noah and I are the only ones not sitting together. Which is fine by me, because I don’t want to be anywhere near him right now.