The Remedy (The Program 0.5)(52)

“Her name is Virginia Pritchard,” Aaron says. “And Arthur Pritchard is her father. The same Arthur Pritchard who created the remedy. Now how the f*ck do you explain that coincidence?”

I rock back on my heels. “His daughter?” I repeat. “That means . . . he’s involved in this case somehow. Why would he keep that a secret? Why—” I hear the door of the restaurant opening behind me, and Aaron flicks his glance in that direction. Without missing a beat, I snatch a napkin off his table.

“Thanks,” I call out to him, like he’s a stranger, and then turn to find Isaac walking toward me with the server. I hold up the napkin to prove why I was talking to the guy at the table. “I’m a walking disaster today,” I tell Isaac. “I’m sorry.”

Isaac laughs. “It’s fine.” We stand aside while the server moves us to a new table, beyond Aaron’s judgy stare, and the busser comes out to clean up my mess. I apologize profusely, but the server tells me not to worry about it. I don’t look at Aaron, and I compartmentalize what he told me about Virginia. I can’t think about that now. I store it away for later.

Isaac pulls out my chair, and I sit, watching him as he moves to take the spot next to me rather than across from me. “I think I like this table better anyway,” he says. His knee is close to mine, his energy radiating to my skin. We both look down at our plates, helplessly trying to avoid the awkwardness. After a minute or two, I feel him look at me.

“Is it okay?” he starts in a quiet voice. “Is it okay if I pretend you’re her? Does that make me a terrible human being?”

“No,” I say, looking straight at him. “Not at all. It’s part of the process.”

“It just . . .” His eyes drift over me. “It feels good, you know? Filling this emptiness.” He sniffles, and shakes his head like he’s angry for thinking this way. He’s made so much progress, though; I don’t want him to doubt himself now.

I reach out and put my hand over his, the movement making him take in a sharp breath. “Isaac,” I whisper, leaning in to get his attention. “Let me help you.”

He looks down at our hands, and he’s lost in his head, trying to decide if what we’re doing is wrong. Immoral. Slowly he turns his hand over, our palms pressed together. He slides his fingers between mine, sending a shiver down my spine. It’s intimate. Too intimate, and I have to pull away.

I dart a worried look at Aaron, but he’s pretending not to have seen. I know he has. Guilt rushes over me, the idea that I’m not only getting too attached, but that I’ve wronged Deacon in some way. Not technically—we’re not dating. Even if those lines are sometimes blurred.

Isaac apologizes for trying to hold my hand, but I quickly wave off the apology.

“It wasn’t that,” I lie. “I just remembered that I told my parents I’d come straight home after lunch.” Isaac bristles at “my parents.” That combined with my rejection reminds him that I’m not his real girlfriend. But he takes a moment, trying to push away his rational thoughts.

“Maybe another time, then,” he suggests, and takes a sip of his soda, preparing to leave. I hate seeing him so dejected. I don’t want him to think about the truth. He wants me to play this role. He asked me to.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I suggest quickly.

He turns to me, his knee brushing against my thigh. “What about tonight?” he asks. “A friend of mine, an old friend who doesn’t know about . . .” He trails off, not wanting to bring up my death. “Anyway, he’s having a party tonight. I could—you could—”

“Sneak out?” I ask with a flirtatious grin.

“You used to call your window the emergency exit,” he says. “You’d hide a plastic step in the bushes when you went out so you could get back in.”

That’s how I did it, I think, remembering the aerobic step I’d seen under my bed. Isaac shifts in his seat, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are. I grow breathless.

“I’ll go,” I say, my heart starting to race. “What time?” I want to put my hand on his leg, move in closer, and brush my cheek against his. Smell his cologne, feel his touch. No one has touched me in that way since Deacon. And not before him either.

“Let’s say midnight,” Isaac offers, and I can see the desire in his expression.

Attraction can be a dangerous thing, I think. Makes people act in ways they normally wouldn’t. Clouds their judgment.

Before this moment goes on any longer, I jump up from the seat, clearing my throat and reaching into my pocket for money.

“It’s okay,” he says, standing. “I’ve got it, Catalina.” This time he doesn’t flinch at my name. In fact, he doesn’t even seem to notice that he said it. He tosses a few bills down on the table, looking content with our plan, and puts his hand on the small of my back to lead us to his truck.

I walk with him, hyperaware of Aaron watching us, but that fades when we get out onto the street. Instead I look sideways at Isaac, thinking again about our attraction. And how good it feels.

CHAPTER NINE

MY MOTHER’S SURPRISED TO SEE me when Isaac drops me off ten minutes later. She waves to him from where she’s in the front yard, gardening. When he drives off, I’m on a bit of a high—still tingling from the way his fingers felt next to mine.