The Watcher Girl(44)

All the girlfriends my father has entertained over the years have brought something unique to the equation. Paris was a marathoner who almost had my father training for an Iron Man. Jada was a vintner’s daughter and taught my father the perks of being a wine snob. Tallulah was a preschool teacher fresh out of college. The only thing she brought was a tight ass.

But Bliss brings peace and a willingness to include herself in something that has nothing to do with her—an art form. She’s unapologetically, wholly herself. For that, I won’t be so quick to write her off.

In fact, I hope he keeps her around a little longer than the others.

I hover over the “Purchase” button for a flight that leaves Sunday afternoon, pausing to consider the things I might miss once I’m gone again.

Rose’s pregnancy milestones.

Bliss’s random stories and unexpected company.

“Hey, hey.” My father steps out to the patio, coffee in hand. Only one this time. Nothing for Bliss. “Yoga by the pool? Where was my invite?”

I’ve been avoiding him since last week, when I learned the truth about the book. But I can’t avoid him forever.

“Morning, Gracie.” He uses my nickname again. It’s almost like he knows. But he couldn’t know. He’s too dense. And Rose wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t betray the trust we’re building.

“Morning.” I don’t glance away from my screen.

He takes the spot beside me, and as if on instinct, I one-click the “Purchase” button. I have forty-eight hours to pack my things, forty-eight hours to talk to my father about that book, and forty-eight hours to make internal peace with the Sutton and Campbell situation.

“What’s the plan for today?” he asks. “Was going to see if you wanted to grab lunch at the club with us later?”

For weeks I’ve been home, and he waits until now to invite me out to lunch? Memories of sitting through hours-long meals while my father chitchatted with all his buddies at neighboring tables fill my mind. Today, of all days, I don’t have time.

“I’ve got a few things to finish up,” I say. “And then I need to start packing. Going home on Sunday.”

He frowns. Bliss and Rose stop their yoga session, slowly rising from their lilac-colored foam mats.

“When were you going to tell us?” Rose asks.

I wait for the confirmation email to come through before closing my laptop, and then I gather my things.

“Now,” I say. “Just booked the flight.”

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Bliss asks.

Now I’m getting it from all angles.

I think of Sutton yesterday at the pharmacy. The hardness in his glare, the grit in his jaw. “Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

I head inside before they can guilt me into canceling my nonrefundable ticket, and as soon as I make it to my room, I realize I’ve missed two calls from the burner phone, both within the last minute.

Before I have a chance to call back, my screen lights with a third call.

“Hello?” I answer, careful not to use her name in case it’s him.

“Grace.” It’s Campbell. “I have twenty minutes this afternoon.”





CHAPTER 26

Campbell’s waiting for me at a bistro the next town over, sitting cross-legged at a table for two by the sidewalk. Her sandy hair is twisted into a high bun, and mirrored aviators hide her eyes. The rest of her is dressed for the gym.

“Where’s Gigi?” I ask when I take the empty chair.

“I’m supposed to be at barre.” She scans the cars that drive by. If she’s so concerned about being spotted, why nab a spot outside? “I dropped her off at the fitness center day care and came here. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Sutton lets her take fitness classes now? I guess I assumed he didn’t . . .

Or maybe he doesn’t know?

“First of all, why are you still with him?” I ask. “When I didn’t hear from you after that night in the park . . .” Preserved images of their home through a security camera lens flash into my mind. “I thought you’d taken Gigi and gotten the hell out of there. I was surprised to see you last week.”

“I appreciate your concern, Grace. I do. But I never should have gotten you involved in any of this. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t. It’s only made things worse between Sutton and me.”

“Worse how?”

She slides the sunglasses down her nose and rests them on the table, next to a glass of melting ice water. I scan her face for marks, bruises, swelling, anything, but she’s flawless. Not a hint of makeup or concealer anywhere.

Dragging in a jagged breath, she holds her gaze on mine. “I need to be up-front with you about something.”

“By all means.”

“That night at the park, when I told you I knew exactly who you were,” she says before hesitating. Her lips spread into a lightning-fast smile that fades in an instant. “I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding completely insane. Also, I feel silly having not brought it up earlier, but the last few weeks have been . . .”

“What? What is it?” My head is light, and my heart trips over its own beats. I haven’t the slightest clue what she’s about to confess, and every second is torture.