“No. Lie to me.” She cracks one eye open and peers at me.

“I was counting your freckles. Watching to make sure you didn’t burn. Of course, I failed at that.” I pause dramatically. “OK. I’ve been caught. I’m a guy. Of course I looked.”

She laughs. “I don’t have freckles in the places you were looking.”

I click the button on my steering wheel to turn some music on. A pop song comes on and I sing along with the parts I know.

Harper’s lips curve into a smile. She sits quietly with her eyes closed for several miles. I think she’s fallen asleep until she mutters something.

“What was that?” I turn the music down.

She sighs. “Thanks for bringing me. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask.”

“About Tori.”

My hand tightens on the steering wheel. I flex my fingers to relax. “OK.”

“Is Tori the outdoors type? Did you go fishing and stuff with her?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I throw her a sidelong glance.

“What was your favorite thing about her?”

On the list of possible questions she could ask, this doesn’t even make the list. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, you do. You were attracted to her because she was smart or something.”

I laugh at this. “Um, no. That wasn’t it. Why do you want to know?”

“She doesn’t seem like your type.” Harper stretches her arms above her head, cat-like in her movement. “I’m surprised you went for her.”

“Me, too.” I drop my shoulders and try to relax. Harper’s tone is conversational, and I can tell she’s not picking a fight. Not like Josie does when we talk about Tori.

“She’s hot, if you like that high-priced call-girl kind of thing.” Harper’s tone drips acid.

Maybe I was wrong about the fight. I laugh anyway. “She works hard for it.”

Harper sits up and turns to me, drawing one leg underneath the other in the seat. She grins. “Oh, you’re going to have to explain that.”

It feels so good to be talking with Harper. I shouldn’t be talking badly about Tori. I hate it when people are malicious about their exes. Two people make a relationship work and two people ruin one. I understand I was to blame for some things.

But for once, it’s like I’m lifting a thousand pound burden to say the things I’ve never voiced aloud.

“She works in a salon. I’d bet she clocks a hundred hours a month purely on her appearance. Hair, color, nails, tan, some other shit I can’t even remember.” I keep my tone flat, so I don’t sound bitter. These things aren’t really what would keep me from loving someone.

“And you didn’t like that?” Harper asks.

“I ignored it. I mean—don’t get me wrong—I appreciated the result at the time. But looking back, it’s crazy. That is her focus in life. Looking the way she does.”

“So, how’d you not know she was married?”

And now we get to the crux of the relationship problems. Harper doesn’t mess around. I look at her and back to the road. “I should have. All the clues were there if I’d paid any attention at all.” I pause. “It’s like a mystery novel where you see all the details you missed because you were distracted by the wrong things.”

“Tell me the clues.” Her voice coaxes me with its softness.

“She always came to my place. Never me to hers. She said she had a roommate that I never met. She said she lived in Germantown but wasn’t familiar with a bookstore there I mentioned. One day, I kept trying to call her and it would go straight to voicemail. I was out in Green Hills picking up something. It was around lunchtime. And there she was, holding hands with some guy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harper says in a commiserate tone.

I have no doubt she understands the feeling of being duped. “I’m not. She was a liar and a cheat—two things I won’t tolerate.”

She’s not laughing. “Sorry.”

I grin humorlessly. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I found out. She was never going to tell me.”

“She wasn’t worried her husband would find out?”

“He already knew. They have an understanding. She dates other people. He does, too. They have an open marriage.”

“That’s twisted.”

“Like a snake.”

She takes a deep gulp of air and sits straighter in her seat. “Wesley and I weren’t really married. I found out he already had a wife. That doesn’t work unless you live in Utah.”

I nearly swerve off the road trying to look at her. The tires make squealing sounds when I take a curve too quickly. I’ve known about her husband ever since I looked up the postcard I was missing. The image scan told me why she’d want it back.

“Hey, don’t kill us!” She yanks on her seatbelt like she’s checking it. Then, she’s silent for several seconds.

I pull over to the side of the road and turn to her. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

Why couldn’t she tell me this in the beginning? Why hide the truth until now? My desire to forgive her for everything wars deep inside me. I switch back and forth between wanting to start all over and needing to run.

“Because I felt stupid.” She traces a pattern of freckles on her thigh, then looks up at me. Hurt and anger radiates from her gaze. “Can you imagine how it feels to know you’ve ignored all the clues—clues like you talk about. Things I should’ve seen. The police came to our house, because the wreck was in Tacoma. I was asked to identify the body. That’s when everything got weird, because he had another wallet in the glove compartment of his truck. Another set of identification and another place of residence.”

I shake my head. “You couldn’t know. Who would guess something like that? It’s insane.”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing. What kind of loser doesn’t catch on to something that huge? Husband gone for weeks on end. No visit to meet his parents. No old friends calling him. So much was missing. I should’ve known.”

“No. You couldn’t. Don’t ever call yourself a loser. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know.” I’m so pissed about her admission, I can barely contain my anger. Anger at him. Anger at myself for not seeing she’s as messed up as I am when it comes to relationships.

I grip the steering wheel until my fingers hurt. I relax my hold and flex my fingers of my right hand and then my left. “If I hadn’t caught you rifling through my things in the bookshelf, would you’ve told me everything?”

She pauses, her gaze fixed on the dashboard. Then she pivots in her seat to look at me, her expression earnest. “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’d like to say I would have, but the truth is scary. I thought if you knew, I’d lose you. And I was right, wasn’t I.”

I turn back to focus on the road. I wanted her to say that she’d planned to tell me. Maybe I didn’t want to hear the truth, after all.

I’m antsy since Josie turned me down when I offered to drive them both to Dastardly’s. I’m supposed to show up at 8:30. It’s 7:00 and the bar is crowded already with patrons ready to start their weekend early. I scan the room and spot Dane. He’s behind the bar, so I make my way there.

It takes him several minutes to wait on a few customers. I stand, since all the bar stools have already been taken.

The girl to my right gives me a once over. “Hey there.”

“Hi.” I glance away from her so she won’t take my greeting as some invitation to start a conversation.

“Want to buy me a drink?” she asks.

I turn back to her. “Sorry. I’m with friends.”

Dane approaches and winks at the girl beside me. He turns my way. “What’ll you have?”

“Nothing. Just came to say hi before I go to the back. Josie and Harper here yet?”

“Oh yeah. And a room full of women.” He studies me. “You don’t want to go back there. I think this is like an all-female thing. No men allowed.”

His statement doesn’t bother me. I figure Josie’s asked all her buddies so they can meet Harper. I have to give it to my sister for being sweet and trying so hard to help Harper make friends.