She gives me the mother lode of guilt trips instead. “Well, then, where is all of this coming from?” Now I see she was masterminding a crazed intervention that I don’t need. When Kacey handed it to me and suggested that we watch the Miami Beach sunset from our deck, I thought she was being sweet. I place my plate down on a side table before I drop it. Her PTSD therapist? My hands are starting to shake. This is getting more ridiculous by the second. The point is that Stayner has agreed to speak to you.” With an eye roll, she mutters, “Anyway, that’s not the point. “Oh, that woman in London who murdered hundreds of babies-” “Who?” I frown as my tongue works the last bits of mealy cake off the roof of my mouth.
“One of these days, I think you’re going to crack and go all Amelia Dyer on me.” I got used to it years ago, and yet each one of them feels like a punch to the nose right now. Kacey tosses F-bombs around like some people toss pennies.
” Kacey pauses as if searching for the right word. You could be the love child of Mother Teresa and Gandhi. It’s like you’re not capable of getting angry. I can’t believe you don’t deck me for some of the stuff I say. If someone slapped you across the face, you’d apologize to them. Only now the mocha flavor has turned bitter and the texture is gritty. With a nervous giggle and no clue how to respond, I bide my time with another mouthful of cake. At least we’re not heading back down that road. Nothing but crystal-clear blue eyes staring back at me. I lean forward and peer into her face, looking for the signs-the dilated pupils, the bloodshot whites-the traits of a user that I came to recognize when I was twelve. “You’re not serious, are you?”Ī bubble of panic rises into my throat. Wiping off the gob of cheesecake from my bottom lip, I turn to search her face, looking for a tell-something to expose her game. The way she says it-her calm, gentle tone-sends a strange ripple through my stomach. I automatically attribute her declaration to that. “Livie, I think you’re completely f**ked up.”Ĭhunks of cheesecake fly out of my mouth and splatter against the deck’s glass panel as I choke on my fork.
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